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.
The Way I read a Letter’s—this— ‘Tis first—I lock the Door— And push it with my fingers—next— For transport it be sure— And then I go the furthest off To counteract a knock— Then draw my little Letter forth And…
The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.” We pass, and she abides. We conjugate Her Skill While She creates and federates Without a syllable.
The Truth—is stirless— Other force—may be presumed to move— This—then—is best for confidence— When oldest Cedars swerve— And Oaks untwist their fists— And Mountains—feeble—lean— How excellent a Body, that Stands without a Bone— How vigorous a Force That holds without…
The Trees like Tassels—hit—and swung— There seemed to rise a Tune From Miniature Creatures Accompanying the Sun— Far Psalteries of Summer— Enamoring the Ear They never yet did satisfy— Remotest—when most fair The Sun shone whole at intervals— Then Half—then…
The Tint I cannot take—is best— The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar— A Guinea at a sight— The fine—impalpable Array— That swaggers on the eye Like Cleopatra’s Company— Repeated—in the sky— The Moments of Dominion…
The thought beneath so slight a film Is more distinctly seen, — As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.
The Test of Love—is Death— Our Lord—”so loved”—it saith— What Largest Lover—hath Another—doth— If smaller Patience—be— Through less Infinity— If Bravo, sometimes swerve— Through fainter Nerve— Accept its Most— And overlook—the Dust— Last—Least— The Cross’—Request—
The sweetest Heresy received That Man and Woman know— Each Other’s Convert— Though the Faith accommodate but Two— The Churches are so frequent— The Ritual—so small— The Grace so unavoidable— To fail—is Infidel—
The Sunset stopped on Cottages Where Sunset hence must be For treason not of His, but Life’s, Gone Westerly, Today— The Sunset stopped on Cottages Where Morning just begun— What difference, after all, Thou mak’st Thou supercilious Sun?
The Sunrise runs for Both— The East—Her Purple Troth Keeps with the Hill— The Noon unwinds Her Blue Till One Breadth cover Two— Remotest—still— Nor does the Night forget A Lamp for Each—to set— Wicks wide away— The North—Her blazing…