The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
We turn not older with years, but newer every day.
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook, That went to help the sea. Myself conjectured,…
A doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find. An Unreality is lent, A merciful Mirage That makes the living possible While it suspends the lives.
A door just opened on a street– I, lost, was passing by– An instant’s width of warmth disclosed And wealth, and company. The door as sudden shut, and I, I, lost, was passing by,– Lost doubly, but by contrast…
A Death blow is a Life blow to Some Who till they died, did not alive become— Who had they lived, had died but when They died, Vitality begun.
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory! From marshallings as simple The flags of nations swang. Steady—my soul: What issues Upon thine arrow hang!
A darting fear–a pomp–a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
A clock stopped — not the mantel’s Geneva’s farthest skill Can’t put the puppet bowing That just now dangled still. An awe came on the trinket! The figures hunched with pain, Then quivered out of decimals Into degreeless noon.…
A Burdock–clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s–blame— But mine— Who went too near The Burdock’s Den— A Bog–affronts my shoe— What else have Bogs–to do— The only Trade they know— The splashing Men! Ah, pity—then! ‘Tis Minnows can despise!…
‘Twould ease–a Butterfly— Elate–a Bee— Thou’rt neither— Neither–thy capacity— But, Blossom, were I, I would rather be Thy moment Than a Bee’s Eternity— Content of fading Is enough for me— Fade I unto Divinity— And Dying–Lifetime— Ample…
‘Twas warm–at first–like Us— Until there crept upon A Chill–like frost upon a Glass— Till all the scene—be gone. The Forehead copied Stone— The Fingers grew too cold To ache–and like a Skater’s Brook— The busy eyes–congealed— It…