British Georgics. December (James Grahame Poems)
Loud raves the blast, and, smell, the sleety showersDrive over hill and dale with hurrying sweep.The leafless boughs all to ...
Loud raves the blast, and, smell, the sleety showersDrive over hill and dale with hurrying sweep.The leafless boughs all to ...
Retreate (sad passions) to your chanels now, Let sorrowes inundations cease to flow: Griefes, (which distinguish Mortals from the Gods) Ought to be ...
I've left my own old home of homes, Green fields and every pleasant place;The summer like a stranger comes, I pause and ...
Christmass is come and every hearthMakes room to give him welcome nowEen want will dry its tears in mirthAnd crown ...
Thou that canst grieue because another smiles,and giue, to vndeseruing spirits, stilesWhich thou dost filch from gen'rous noble minds;because thy ...
Maytime is to the meadows coming in,And cowslip peeps have gotten eer so big,And water blobs and all their golden ...
THE PRIMRWOSE in the shade do blow,The cowslip in the zun,The thyme upon the down do grow,The clote where streams ...
Right and left the leaders wheel,Seeking gap and gate,Catch his head and give him heel!Ride your country straight!Fences are by ...
I.THE sun is hot in the noisy street,So hot on a summer day,And people pass with such busy feet,There's never ...
To town one day rode Solon Stiles,O'er weary roads and rocky miles,And thro' long lanes, whose dusty breath,Did nearly smother ...
Come away with me, Tom,Term and talk are done;My poor lads are reaping,Busy every one.Curates mind the parish,Sweepers mind the ...
He said his legs were stiff and sore ...
Often and often it came back againTo mind, the day I passed the horizon ridgeTo a new country, the path ...
Light, so low upon earth, You send a flash to the sun.Here is the golden close of love, ...
Where the beech and maple growLeaves as bright as flowers show,Every path, and garden bed,Are ablaze with gold and red.Down ...
Christmass is come and every hearth Makes room to give him welcome now Een want will dry its tears in ...
WHEN chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neibors, neibors, meet; As market days are wearing late, And folk begin ...
A Tale "Of Brownyis and of Bogilis full is this Buke." -Gawin Douglas. When chapman billies leave the street, And ...
for Brenda Williams The dawn cracked with ice, with fire grumbling in the grate, With ire in the homes we ...
Though after Death, Thanks lessen into Praise, And Worthies be not crown'd with gold, but bayes; Shall we not thank? ...
When Watkin shifts the burden of his cares And all that irked him in his bound employ, Once more become ...
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