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.
An altered look about the hills— A Tyrian light the village fills— A wider sunrise in the morn— A deeper twilight on the lawn— A print of a vermilion foot— A purple finger on the slope— A flippant fly upon…
Ample make this Bed— Make this Bed with Awe— In it wait till Judgment break Excellent and Fair. Be its Mattress straight— Be its Pillow round— Let no Sunrise’ yellow noise Interrupt this Ground—
Ambition cannot find him. Affection doesn’t know How many leagues of nowhere Lie between them now. Yesterday, undistinguished! Eminent Today For our mutual hone, Immortality!
Always Mine! No more Vacation! Term of Light this Day begun! Failless as the fair rotation Of the Seasons and the Sun. Old the Grace, but new the Subjects— Old, indeed, the East, Yet upon His Purple Programme Every…
Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear, This might have been the Hand That sowed the flower, he preferred— Or smoothed a homely pain, Or pushed the pebble from…
Alter! When the Hills do— Falter! When the Sun Question if His Glory Be the Perfect One— Surfeit! When the Daffodil Doth of the Dew— Even as Herself—Sir— I will—of You—
Alone, I cannot be— For Hosts—do visit me— Recordless Company— Who baffle Key— They have no Robes, nor Names— No Almanacs—nor Climes— But general Homes Like Gnomes— Their Coming, may be known By Couriers within— Their going—is not—…
All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train— Then sleeps in state again— My chancel—all the plain Today. To lose—if one can find again— To miss—if one shall meet— The Burglar…
All the letters I can writeAre not fair as this—Syllables of Velvet—Sentences of Plush,Depths of Ruby, undrained,Hid, Lip, for Thee—Play it were a Humming Bird—And just sipped—me—
All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of “Currer Bell” In quiet “Haworth” laid. Gathered from many wanderings— Gethsemane can tell Thro’ what transporting anguish She reached the Asphodel! Soft falls the sounds…