A fuzzy fellow, without feet (Emily Dickinson Poems)
173A fuzzy fellow, without feet,Yet doth exceeding run!Of velvet, is his Countenance,And his Complexion, dun!Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass!Sometime, ...
173A fuzzy fellow, without feet,Yet doth exceeding run!Of velvet, is his Countenance,And his Complexion, dun!Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass!Sometime, ...
847Finite - to fail, but infinite to Venture -For the one ship that struts the shoreMany's the gallant - overwhelmed ...
Finite -- to fail, but infinite to Venture -- For the one ship that struts the shore Many's the gallant ...
A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he ...
IS there for honest Poverty That hings his head, an' a' that; The coward slave-we pass him by, We dare ...
Is there, for honest Poverty That hings his head, and a' that; The coward-slave, we pass him by, We dare ...
with an Apple Macintosh you can't run Radio Shack programs in its disc drive. nor can a Commodore 64 drive ...
(For Harry Clifton) I HAVE heard that hysterical women say They are sick of the palette and fiddle-bow. Of poets ...
They asked the Bard of Ayr to dine; The banquet hall was fit and fine, With gracing it a Lord; ...
To Dawson Town came Percy Brown from London on the Thames. A pane of glass was in his eye, and ...
When I was with a Shakespeare show I played the part of Guildenstern, Or Rosenkrantz - at least I know ...
The Elders of the Tribe were grouped And squatted in the Council Cave; They seemed to be extremely pooped, And ...
O'ER fallow plains and fertile meads, AURORA lifts the torch of day; The shad'wy brow of Night recedes, Cold dew-drops ...
We see it each day in the paper, And know that there's mischief in store; That some unprofessional caper Has ...
A man once read with mind surprised Of the way that people were "hypnotised"; By waving hands you produced, forsooth, ...
NOTHING so true as what you once let fall, "Most Women have no Characters at all." Matter too soft a ...
Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigu'd, I said, Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead. The dog-star ...
The actor struts his little hour, Between the limelight and the band; The public feel the actor's power, Yet nothing ...
Hence, loathed Melancholy, ............Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn ............'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights ...
The gates are chained, the barbed-wire fencing stands, An iron authority against the snow, And this grey monument to common ...
Lately the wind burns the last leaves and evening comes too late to be of use, lately I learned that ...
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