Lines To A Teapot (Joanna Baillie Poems)
ON thy carved sides, where many a vivid dyeIn easy progress leads the wandering eye,A distant nation's manners we behold,To ...
ON thy carved sides, where many a vivid dyeIn easy progress leads the wandering eye,A distant nation's manners we behold,To ...
Read at a meeting of the Massachusetts Historical Society.No! never such a draught was pouredSince Hebe served with nectarThe bright ...
Sweet, harmless lives! (on whose holy leisure Waits innocence and pleasure),Whose leaders to those pastures, and clear springs, Were patriarchs, saints, and ...
"How many have gone?" was the question of oldEre Time our bright ring of its jewels bereft;Alas! for too often ...
1860WHAT makes the Healing Art divine?The bitter drug we buy and sell,The brands that scorch, the blades that shine,The scars ...
Now the truce of night brings respite to the sordid care of day,And in listlessness I pace the river side,Where ...
We are those that came early at dawnattacking steadily on Nukhail's day.We destroyed the Malik al Jahjahaforever; we stirred mourners ...
Ah, Needwood! I, whose early voiceTaught thy shrill echoes to rejoice;I, who first pour'd the sylvan songThy glades, thy banks, ...
Is it illusion? or does there a spirit from perfecter ages, Here, even yet, amid loss, change, and corruption abide? ...
ADVICE; OR THE 'SQUIRE AND THE PRIEST.A wealthy Lord of far-extended landHad all that pleased him placed at his command;Widow'd ...
The fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign;Of all the Virgins of the sylvan train,None taught the trees a nobler race ...
So there's my year, the twelvemonth duly told Since last I climbed this brow and gloated round Upon the lands ...
A summer, long ago a different sleepover, out under the stars, in the Berkshire woods when summer camp meant the ...
Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes, Come to yo' pappy an' set on his knee. What you been doin', suh ...
The hunt begins at a languid pace belying hysteria building in place, biding its time to menace the peace in ...
With many a pause and oft reverted eye I climb the Coomb's ascent: sweet songsters near Warble in shade their ...
Lines composed while climbing the left ascent of Brockley Coomb, May 1795 With many a pause and oft reverted eye ...
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade ...
When I drive cab I am moved by strange whistles and wear a hat When I drive cab I am ...
Sweet, harmless lives! (on whose holy leisure Waits innocence and pleasure), Whose leaders to those pastures, and clear springs, Were ...
A Song of the Great Retreat Dreary lay the long road, dreary lay the town, Lights out and never a ...
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