Blind (James Whitcomb Riley Poems)
You think it is a sorry thing That I am blind. Your pitying Is welcome to me; yet indeed, I think I have but ...
You think it is a sorry thing That I am blind. Your pitying Is welcome to me; yet indeed, I think I have but ...
"Hey, Bud! O Bud!" rang out a gleeful call,--"_The Loehrs is come to your house!_" And a smallBut very much ...
Farther up the gorge the sea's voice fainted and ceased.We heard a new noise far away ahead of us, vague ...
Three miles of trees it is: and ICame through the woods that waited, dumb,For the cool summer dusk to come;And ...
BLUE, the wreaths of smoke, like drooping bannersFrom the flaming battlements of sunsetHung suspended; and within his whareHipe, last of ...
The organ peals through pictured panes that etch strange patterns on the grass,A thorned head shadowed on the flags, beneath ...
AT six—long ere the wintry dawn— There sounded through the silent hall To where I lay, with blankets drawn Above ...
The new moon marked the twilight hour, A night-jar quavered eerily, And swallows circled round the tower-- Saint ...
Paul Jannes was working very late, For this watch must be done by eight To-morrow or the Cardinal Would certainly ...
I I saw a slowly-stepping train -- Lined on the brows, scoop-eyed and bent and hoar -- Following in files ...
Night's grating of steel on stone and splash of water crashing from the buckets brings back that moment in a ...
In the little Crimson Manual it's written plain and clear That who would wear the scarlet coat shall say good-bye ...
'Jack fell as he'd have wished,' the Mother said, And folded up the letter that she'd read. 'The Colonel writes ...
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