The Story of Mongrel Grey (Andrew Barton Paterson Poems)
This is the story the stockman told On the cattle-camp, when the stars were bright; The moon rose up like ...
This is the story the stockman told On the cattle-camp, when the stars were bright; The moon rose up like ...
Master I may be, But not of my fate. Now come the kisses, too many too late. Tell me, O ...
Religions are poems. They concert our daylight and dreaming mind, our emotions, instinct, breath and native gesture into the only ...
In the World language, sometimes called Airport Road, a thinks balloon with a gondola under it is a symbol for ...
In placid hours well-pleased we dream Of many a brave unbodied scheme. But form to lend, pulsed life create, What ...
Here lies the body of Lois Spears, Born Lois Fluke, daughter of Willard Fluke, Wife of Cyrus Spears, Mother of ...
For Linda Foster I Because we used to have leaves and on damp days our muscles feel a tug, painful ...
High on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth or Ormus and of Ind, Or where the ...
Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn From his displeasure; in whose look serene, When angry most he seemed and most ...
Mean while the heinous and despiteful act Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how He, in the serpent, had perverted ...
Fanaticism?No.Writing is exciting and baseball is like writing. You can never tell with either how it will go or what ...
Someone was calling someone; now they've stopped. Beyond the glass the rose vines quiver as in a light wind, but ...
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