The Magpie’s Nest, Or A Lesson Of Docility (Charles Lamb Poems)
A FABLEWhen the arts in their infancy were, In a fable of old 'tis exprest,A wise magpie constructed that rare ...
A FABLEWhen the arts in their infancy were, In a fable of old 'tis exprest,A wise magpie constructed that rare ...
I hate your Sterne, though still at times, When for a lighter half-hour yearning,I toss aside unfinish'd rhymes For Uncle ...
1 The dew was full of sun that morn _(Oh I heard the doves in the ladyricks coop!)_ As he ...
The starlings they have come to town, With polka dots on their robes of brown; They sit a crowd on ...
Over the hills of AprilWith soft winds hand in hand,Impassionate and dreamy-eyed,Spring leads her saraband.Her garments float and gatherAnd swirl ...
Thoo doesn't think I luve theeTho' I write thee every dayWi' all t' larnin' 'at I have!I'll finnd anuther way:I'll ...
SLEEP, sleep, my treasure, The long day's pleasure Has tired the birds, to their nests they ...
Holy ecstasy-swans on great glad WatersSeize me, but in vain.I hear the gaggling of sensible ganders,Nothing can remain,There is nothing ...
"`I can't get out', said the starling." Sterne's `Sentimental Journey'. Forever the impenetrable wall Of self confines my poor rebellious ...
Scene.--A wide stretch of fallow ground recently sown with wheat, and frozen to iron hardness. Three large birds walking about ...
a starling sat on the roof (i don't know how young) croaking in an old man's voice cross with the ...
Was it a starling coming to rest on the front porch light rising from drinking from the gutter above the ...
ARRANGING long-locked drawers and shelves Of cabinets, shut up for years, What a strange task we've set ourselves ! How ...
Fled foam underneath us, and round us, a wandering and milky smoke, High as the Saddle-girth, covering away from our ...
In her room at the prow of the house Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden, My ...
THE groundflame of the crocus breaks the mould, Fair Spring slides hither o'er the Southern sea, Wavers on her thin ...
If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad ...
KNOW you the river near to Grez, A river deep and clear? Among the lilies all the way, That ancient ...
You said you would kill it this morning. Do not kill it. It startles me still, The jut of that ...
Behold the apples' rounded worlds: juice-green of July rain, the black polestar of flowers, the rind mapped with its crimson ...
Mournfully to and fro, to and fro the trees are waving; What did you say, my dear? The rain-bruised leaves ...
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