Una (Ralph Waldo Emerson Poems)
Roving, roving, as it seems,Una lights my clouded dreams;Still for journeys she is dressed;We wander far by east and west.In ...
Roving, roving, as it seems,Una lights my clouded dreams;Still for journeys she is dressed;We wander far by east and west.In ...
A thin cypress scrapes the sky,And the hot day's perfumePours itself on the landscape's wounds.Delicate needles pierce the heart;Fainting she ...
In Fanscomb Barn (who knows not Fanscomb Barn?) Seated between the sides of rising Hills, Whose airy Tops o'erlook the ...
All quiet along the Potomac to-night! Except here and there a stray picketIs shot, as he walks on his beat, ...
As first I remember him: A red man, and tall, Great Toll, the blacksmith, filled my childish eye.At its first ...
Four white heifers with sprawling hooves trundle the waggon. Its ill-roped crates heavy with fruit ...
Little Miss Brag has much to sayTo the rich little lady from over the wayAnd the rich little lady puts ...
Little girlie, kneeling there,Speaking low your evening prayer,In your cunning little nightieWith your pink toes peeping through,With your eyes closed ...
to Ernesto de Martino Before, if there was a funeral in town, the band would follow, and so did with ...
The father toils at his work all day,And he hums this song as he plods away: "Heigho! for the mother ...
416A Murmur in the Trees - to note -Not loud enough - for Wind -A Star - not far enough ...
Whatever the task that comes your way,Just take it as part of your luck.Look it right square in the eyes, ...
WHERE is this patriarch you are kindly greeting? Not unfamiliar to my ear his name, Nor yet unknown to many ...
Little Miss Brag has much to say To the rich little lady from over the way And the rich little ...
The carts squeak and trundle, the horses whinny, the conscripts go by, each with a bow and arrows at his ...
A Murmur in the Trees -- to note -- Not loud enough -- for Wind -- A Star -- not ...
A green and silent spot, amid the hills, A small and silent dell ! O'er stiller place No singing sky-lark ...
Along the wind-swept platform, pinched and white, The travellers stand in pools of wintry light, Offering themselves to morn's long, ...
Whenever Auntie moves around, Her dresses make a curious sound, They trail behind her up the floor, And trundle after ...
Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus ...
THE flower-fed buffaloes of the spring In the days of long ago, Ranged where the locomotives sing And the prarie ...
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