The Road That Has No End (Joseph Burrows Poems)
HAST ever tramped along the road That has no end?The far brown winding road,-your one Fast friendA tattered weather-beaten swag, A silent mate To ...
HAST ever tramped along the road That has no end?The far brown winding road,-your one Fast friendA tattered weather-beaten swag, A silent mate To ...
Faith, and little Miss McCroddie was the tidy little body, Just as trim and prim and handy as you'd ever wish ...
How oft on Sundays, when I'd time to tramp,My rambles led me to a gipsy's camp,Where the real effigy of ...
I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms,hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless.No more ...
NEVER weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore,Never tired pilgrim's limbs affected slumber more,Than my wearied sprite now longs to ...
"In a southern forest gloomy and old, So lately the scene of a terrible fight,A soldier, alone in the dark ...
Tuggin' at your bottle, An' it's O, you're mighty sweet!Just a bunch of dimples From your top-knot to your feet,Lying ...
The warm fire.The comfortable chairs.The merry companions.The stroke of twelve.The wild suggestion.The good sports.The man who hasn't slept for weeks.The ...
The meadow-larks rejoice, as the bright sun Drinks up the burdening dew from slender grass, From flower cups, purple, yellow, ...
There is an air of majesty,A bearing dignified and free, About the mountain peaks;Each crag of weather-beaten stonePresents ...
Dear to my heart are the ancestral dwellings of America, Dearer than if they were haunted by ghosts of royal ...
Here take my picture; though I bid farewell, Thine, in my heart, where my soul dwells, shall dwell. 'Tis like ...
1 Sometime now past in the Autumnal Tide, 2 When Ph{oe}bus wanted but one hour to bed, 3 The trees ...
A RETURN TO THE COVER OF THIS BOOK Dear Trout Fishing in America: I met your friend Fritz in Washington ...
1 AS I sat alone, by blue Ontario's shore, As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return'd, ...
I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms, hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless. ...
Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm; And in the chasm are foam and yellow sands; Beyond, red ...
The glorying forest shakes and swings with glancing Of boughs that dip and strain; young, slanting sprays Beckon and shift ...
The friar had said his paternosters duly And scourged his limbs, and afterwards would have slept; But with much riddling ...
Holland, that scarce deserves the name of Land, As but th'Off-scouring of the Brittish Sand; And so much Earth as ...
High on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth or Ormus and of Ind, Or where the ...
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