Some Of Farmer Stebbin’s Opinions (Isabella Valancy Crawford Poems)
No, Parson, 'tain't been in my style, (Nor none ov my relations)Tew dig about the gnarly roots Ov prophetic spekkleations,Tew see what ...
No, Parson, 'tain't been in my style, (Nor none ov my relations)Tew dig about the gnarly roots Ov prophetic spekkleations,Tew see what ...
Mourning Amid The Ruins of An Ancient ChurchThe fields have faded, the groves look dead,The summer is gone, its beauty ...
Lords of the NurseryWait in a row,Five on the high wall,And four on the low;Big Kings and Little Kings,Brown Bears ...
'T IS the blithest, bonniest weather for a bird to flirt a feather, For a bird to trill and warble, all ...
Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth,This autumn morning! How he sets his bonesTo bask i' the sun, ...
The wood is decked in light green leaf.The swallow twitters in delight.The lonely vine sheds joyous tearsOf interwoven dew and ...
Yet to the wondrous St. Peter's, and yet to the solemn Rotunda, Mingling with heroes and gods, yet to the ...
It was n't kid stakes. I 'ad no crook lurk To act deceivin', or to treat 'er mean.I'm old enough ...
Sleep a little, a little little, thou needst feel no fear or dread,Youth to whom my love is given, I ...
Hail, thou auspicious vernal dawn!Ye birds, proclaim the winter's gone,Ye warbling minstrels sing;Pour forth your tribute as ye rise,And thus ...
Silent devotions.From treetops tallsoft twitters resound,but not one call.We wait, listen -a tiny band.Soft winds murmurall around.Let God speak now.Let ...
It is a wonder, this tough, tiny isle,With such a load of metal and of men,That she can sleep, that ...
A LATE lark twitters from the quiet skies: And from the west, Where the sun, his day's work ended, Lingers ...
When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud And goes down burning into the gulf below, No voice ...
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost Beauties and feelings, ...
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost Beauties and feelings, ...
Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth, This autumn morning! How he sets his bones To bask i' ...
The sun upon the lake is low, The wild birds hush their song, The hills have evening's deepest glow, Yet ...
The night is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars Letting in the light, ...
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