'I suppose you will be getting away pretty soon, now Full term is over, Professor,' said a person not in the story to the Professor of Ontography, soon after they had sat down next to each More…
'Tis Anguish grander than Delight'Tis Resurrection Pain —The meeting Bands of smitten FaceWe questioned to, again. 'Tis Transport wild as thrills the GravesWhen Cerements let goAnd More…
'Tis my first night beneath the SunIf I should spend it here —Above him is too low a heightFor his BarometerWho Airs of expectation breathesAnd takes the Wind at prime —But Distance his More…
'Twas awkward, but it fitted me —An Ancient fashioned Heart —Its only lore — its Steadfastness —In Change — unerudite — It only moved as do the Suns —For merit of Return —Or Birds — More…
'Twas Crisis — All the length had passed —That dull — benumbing timeThere is in Fever or Event —And now the Chance had come — The instant holding in its clawThe privilege to liveOr More…
“Have you written to thank the Froplinsons for what they sent us?” asked Egbert. “No,” said Janetta, with a note of tired defiance in her voice; “I’ve written eleven letters to-day More…
"King Pandion, he is dead; All thy friends are lapp'd in lead." —Author:Richard Barnfield|BARNFIELD (sometimes attributed to Author:William Shakespeare|SHAKESPEARE). DREAMERS, More…
"Mary, Mary, quite contrary,How does your garden grow?With silver bells and cockle-shellsAnd pretty maids all in a row!"—Mother Goose. MARY, Mistress Mary,How does your garden More…
GALAHADS, Galahads, Percivals, gallop!Bayards, to the saddle!—the clangorous trumpets,Hoarse with their ecstasy, call to the mellay.Paladins, Paladins, Rolands flame-hearted,Olivers, More…
CONQUERORS leonine, lordly,Princes and vaunting kings,Ye are drunk with the sound of your braggarttrumps—But lo! ye are little things! Earth . . . it is charnel with monarchs!And the More…
"Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride!They had no poet and they died."—Author:Alexander Pope|POPE. By Tigris, or the streams of Ind,Ere Colchis rose, or Babylon,Forgotten More…
TIME steals from Love all but Love's wings;And how should aught but evil things,Or any good but death, befallHim that is thrall unto Time's thrall,Slave to the lesser of these Kings? O More…
"Unto Me?" I do not know you —Where may be your House? "I am Jesus — Late of Judea —Now — of Paradise" — Wagons — have you — to convey me?This is far from Thence — More…
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