The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
I was the slightest in the House— I took the smallest Room— At night, my little Lamp, and Book— And one Geranium— So stationed I could catch the Mint That never ceased to fall— And just my Basket— Let me…
“I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead— I could not deem it late—to hear That single—steadfast sigh— The lips had placed as with a “Please” Toward Eternity—
I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen— Some Polar Expiation—An Omen in the Bone Of Death’s tremendous nearness— I probed Retrieverless things My Duplicate—to borrow— A Haggard Comfort springs From the belief that Somewhere— Within…
I took my Power in my Hand— And went against the World— ‘Twas not so much as David—had— But I—was twice as bold— I aimed by Pebble—but Myself Was all the one that fell— Was it Goliath—was too large— Or…
I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl— Life’s little duties do—precisely— As the very least Were infinite—to me— I put new Blossoms in the Glass— And throw the old—away— I push a petal from my gown That anchored there—I weigh…
I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify— I think the Heart I former wore Could widen—till to me The Other, like the little Bank Appear—unto the…
I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come— And we are waiting for the Coach— It seems as though the Time Indignant—that the Joy was come— Did block the Gilded Hands— And would not let…
I think the Hemlock likes to stand Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe That men, must slake in Wilderness— And in the Desert—cloy— An instinct for the Hoar, the Bald— Lapland’s—necessity— The…
I think just how my shape will rise— When I shall be “forgiven”— Till Hair—and Eyes—and timid Head— Are out of sight—in Heaven— I think just how my lips will weigh— With shapeless—quivering—prayer— That you—so late—”Consider” me— The “Sparrow” of…
I think I was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful— And whether it was noon at night— Or only Heaven—at Noon— For very Lunacy of Light I had not power to tell—…