The Mower in Ohio (John James Piatt Poems)
THE BEES in the clover are making honey, and I am making my hay:The air is fresh, I seem to ...
THE BEES in the clover are making honey, and I am making my hay:The air is fresh, I seem to ...
HOW bright this weird autumnal eve--While the wild twilight clings around,Clothing the grasses every-where,With scarce a dream of sound!The high ...
Yes, this is the place where my boyhood Saw its butterfly season depart:The butterfly fluttered in sunshine, The chrysalis lies in my ...
A TREMULOUS word, a lingering hand, the burningOf restless passion smoldering--so we part;Ah, slowly from the dark the world is ...
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