Blue Bell, The (Emily Bronte Poem)
The blue bell is the sweetest flower That waves in summer air; Its blossoms have the mightiest power To soothe ...
The blue bell is the sweetest flower That waves in summer air; Its blossoms have the mightiest power To soothe ...
On a sunny brae, alone I lay One summer afternoon; It was the marriage-time of May With her young lover, ...
It was a little budding rose, Round like a fairy globe, And shyly did its leaves unclose Hid in their ...
1.1 Lo now! four other acts upon the stage, 1.2 Childhood, and Youth, the Manly, and Old-age. 1.3 The first: ...
I had eight birds hatched in one nest, Four cocks there were, and hens the rest. I nursed them up ...
Once I seen a human ruin In a elevator-well. And his members was bestrewin' All the place where he had ...
ADVERTISEMENT "The grand army of the Turks, (in 1715), under the Prime Vizier, to open to themselves a way into ...
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er ...
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er ...
We sat down and wept by the waters Of Babel, and thought of the day When our foe, in the ...
LARA. CANTO THE FIRST. I. The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain, And slavery half forgets her ...
I. The morn when first it thunders in March, The eel in the pond gives a leap, they say: As ...
As evening falls, The walls grow luminous and warm, the walls Tremble and glow with the lives within them moving, ...
We sit together and talk, or smoke in silence. You say (but use no words) 'this night is passing As ...
A quay with vessels moored Thomas To India! Yea, here I may take ship; From here the courses go over ...
We are sending you, dear flowers Forth alone to die, Where your gentle sisters may not weep O'er the cold ...
Thistledown in prison sings: Bright shines the summer sun, Soft is the summer air; Gayly the wood-birds sing, Flowers are ...
When Winchester races first took their beginning It is said the good people forgot their old Saint Not applying at ...
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade ...
I GAT your letter, winsome Willie; Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawlie; Tho' I maun say't, I wad be ...
THE SIMPLE Bard, rough at the rustic plough, Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough; The chanting linnet, or the ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories