The Winter Scene (Bliss Carman Poem)
I The rutted roads are all like iron; skies Are keen and brilliant; only the oak-leaves cling In the bare ...
I The rutted roads are all like iron; skies Are keen and brilliant; only the oak-leaves cling In the bare ...
I I heard the spring wind whisper Above the brushwood fire, "The world is made forever Of transport and desire. ...
I like the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall ...
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