Mrs. McNair (Hanford Lennox Gordon Poems)
Mrs. McNair Was tall and fair; Mrs. McNair was slim;She had flashing black eyes and raven hair;But a very remarkably modest air;And ...
Mrs. McNair Was tall and fair; Mrs. McNair was slim;She had flashing black eyes and raven hair;But a very remarkably modest air;And ...
When I lived, many years ago, in Petersburg, every time I chanced to hire asledge, I used to get into ...
I dreamed that we were sitting, a party of twenty, in a big room with openwindows.Among us were women, children, ...
A peasant woman, a widow, had an only son, a young man of twenty, the bestworkman in the village, and ...
Deprived of his enemy, shrugged to a standstillhorrible Henry, foaming. Fan their waytoward him who willin the high wood: the ...
"Isn't it quaint," he turned and said to me,"To watch these village people at the fair?"But I had seen too ...
A yellow-breasted birdheraldic on his rockdevised himself to give backdue light to an afternoon.Who from his posing tookstrength, as from ...
Set wide the window. Let me drink the day.I loved light ever, light in eye and brain-No tapers mirrored in ...
'Twas a winter night at the Diamond Bar,The wind was blowin' cold.The Dipper swung 'round the dim North StarAnd the ...
He had three sons and they, all three,When called, for the encampment left;So the poor father was bereftOf rest and ...
He couldn't use his driver any better on the teeThan the chap that he was licking, who just happened to ...
Cross-ribboned shoes; a muslin gown, High-waisted, girdled with bright blue; A straw poke bonnet which hid the frown She pluckered ...
It were after the Battle of Crecy- The foe all lay dead on the ground- And King Edward went out ...
THE PUDDING MASTER OF STANLEY BASIN Tree, snow and rock beginnings, the mountain in back of the lake promised us ...
THE AUTOPSY OF TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA This is the autopsy of Trout Fishing in America as if Trout Fishing ...
Deprived of his enemy, shrugged to a standstill horrible Henry, foaming. Fan their way toward him who will in the ...
I. My heart sank with our Claret-flask, Just now, beneath the heavy sedges That serve this Pond's black face for ...
Said Hongray de la Glaciere unto his proud Papa: "I want to take a wife mon Père," The Marquis laughed: ...
She had thought the studio would keep itself; no dust upon the furniture of love. Half heresy, to wish the ...
Love has had his way with me. This my heart is torn and maimed Since he took his play with ...
In Hayfield I imagine not just the nuts and bolts of split cockpits but a Spitfire's sunk fuselage has smoked ...
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