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 Morning after Woe— ‘Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee— As Nature did not care— And piled her Blossoms on— And further to parade a Joy Her Victim stared upon— The Birds declaim their…
The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago— And now she turns Her perfect Face Upon the World below— Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde— Her Cheek—a Beryl hewn— Her Eye unto the Summer Dew…
The Moon is distant from the Sea— And yet, with Amber Hands— She leads Him—docile as a Boy— Along appointed Sands— He never misses a Degree— Obedient to Her Eye He comes just so far—toward the Town— Just so far—goes…
The Months have ends—the Years—a knot— No Power can untie To stretch a little further A Skein of Misery— The Earth lays back these tired lives In her mysterious Drawers— Too tenderly, that any doubt An ultimate Repose— The manner…
The Missing All—prevented Me From missing minor Things. If nothing larger than a World’s Departure from a Hinge— Or Sun’s extinction, be observed— ‘Twas not so large that I Could lift my Forehead from my work For Curiosity.
The Martyr Poets—did not tell— But wrought their Pang in syllable— That when their mortal name be numb— Their mortal fate—encourage Some— The Martyr Painters—never spoke— Bequeathing—rather—to their Work— That when their conscious fingers cease— Some seek in Art—the Art…
The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ‘Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ‘Twas Major Andre’s Way— When Choice of Life—is past— There yet remains a Love Its little Fate to stipulate— How small in those who…
The Malay—took the Pearl— Not—I—the Earl— I—feared the Sea—too much Unsanctified—to touch— Praying that I might be Worthy—the Destiny— The Swarthy fellow swam— And bore my Jewel—Home— Home to the Hut! What lot Had I—the Jewel—got— Borne on a Dusky…
The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury ‘twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me In whatsoever Presence makes Till for a further Food I scarcely recollect to starve So first am I supplied— The Luxury…
The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon— And smites the Tinder in the Sun— And hinders Gabriel’s Wing— ‘Tis this—in Music—hints and sways—…