I am a young passionate blogger, very passionate to learn about , something different, on research
Three centuries have passed away Since that most famous April day, When the sweet, gentle Will was born,
By prashant sapkota5 years ago in Poets
Who ponders National events shall find An awful balancing of loss and gain, Joy based on sorrow, good with ill combined,
Oh! I will hold fast to Joy! I will not let him depart - He shall close his beautiful rainbow wings And sing his song in my heart.
An owl took, in a barn, a station As fittest for deep contemplation; There (like a Turk) upon a beam
Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief?
I thank you, MR. PRESIDENT, you've kindly broke the ice; Virtue should always be the first, - I 'm only SECOND VICE -
Sage of the silver pen! Wherever thy thought was heard, Thou wert a leader of men. Poet of honored word!
A winter garden in an alder swamp, Where conies now come out to sun and romp, As near a paradise as it can be And not melt snow or start a dormant tree.
We're away! and the wind whistles shrewd In our whiskers and teeth; And the granite-like grey of the road Seems to slide underneath.
My dear Sir, - I suppose you are having an excellent time just now. There are a large number of counties
Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 't is early morn: Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn.
Broideries and ancient stuffs that some queen Wore; nor gems that warriors' hilts encrusted; Nor fresh from heroes' brows the laurels green;
