When you wear a cloudy collar and a shirt that isn't white, And you cannot sleep for thinking how you'll reach to-morrow night, You may be a man of sorrows, and on speaking terms with Care,...
One blossoming rose-tree, like a beautiful thought Nursed in a broken mind, that waits and schemes, Survives, though shattered, and about it caught, The strangling dodder streams. ...
The old farm-home is Mother's yet and mine, And filled it is with plenty and to spare, But we are lonely here in life's decline, Though fortune smiles around us everywhere: We look across the gold...
The old farm-home is Mother's yet and mine, And filled it is with plenty and to spare, - But we are lonely here in life's decline, Though fortune smiles around us everywhere: We look across the gold...
The unexplored parts of Australia are sometimes spoken of by the bushmen of Western Queensland as the home of the pelican, a bird whose resting place, so far as the writer knows, is seldom, if ever, found. ...
Where we made the fire, In the summer time, Of branch and briar On the hill to the sea I slowly climb Through winter mire, And scan and trace The forsaken place Quite readily. ...
Spare us, Lord, that last, that dreariest ill! Thy wrath's grim thunder, and thy lightning-scorn For our iniquity, that we have worn Soft as a grace, these, if it be thy will,...
While Anna's peers and early playmates tread, In freedom, mountain-turf and river's marge; Or float with music in the festal barge; Rein the proud steed, or through the dance are led;...
O it was but a dream I had While the musician played! - And here the sky, and here the glad Old ocean kissed the glade - And here the laughing ripples ran, And here the roses grew...
Slow de night 's a-fallin', An' I hyeah de callin, Out erpon de lonesome hill; Soun' is moughty dreary, Solemn-lak an' skeery, Sayin' fu' to "whip po' Will."
1 The moon hummed like a refrigerator, light thru shadows - the solitude of dusk closing in; black scars visible across the moon's face shaped like mountainous hands, all...
You could have driven a pick-up truck thru spokes of that moon, so big and radiant this upended water chestnut - ground mist weeping in the shadows flutter of an old woman's shawl,...
Who but is pleased to watch the moon on high Traveling where she from time to time enshrouds Her head, and nothing loth her Majesty Renounces, till among the scattered clouds...
Whoe'er thou art whose path in summer lies Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove Of branching oaks a rural palace old Imbosoms. there dwells Albert, generous lord...
Who fancied what a pretty sight This Rock would be if edged around With living snow-drops? circlet bright! How glorious to this orchard-ground! Who loved the little Rock, and set...
Hymen, late, his love-knots selling, Called at many a maiden's dwelling: None could doubt, who saw or knew them, Hymen's call was welcome to them. "Who'll buy my love-knots? "Who'll buy my love-knots?"...
O my prow vas plack mit curses, Ven I dries to write dose verses; Ven I dries to write dot boem, Dot de best was effer been. All in vain my peer I guzzles, But I gannod solve dot broblem,...
Why be at pains that I should know You sought not me? Do breezes, then, make features glow So rosily? Come, the lit port is at our back, And the tumbling sea; Elsewhere the lampless uphill track...