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.
To my small Hearth His fire came— And all my House aglow Did fan and rock, with sudden light— ‘Twas Sunrise—’twas the Sky— Impanelled from no Summer brief— With limit of Decay— ‘Twas Noon—without the News of Night— Nay, Nature,…
To my quick ear the Leaves—conferred— The Bushes—they were Bells— I could not find a Privacy From Nature’s sentinels— In Cave if I presumed to hide The Walls—begun to tell— Creation seemed a mighty Crack— To make me visible—
To make One’s Toilette—after Death Has made the Toilette cool Of only Taste we cared to please Is difficult, and still— That’s easier—than Braid the Hair— And make the Bodice gay— When eyes that fondled it are wrenched By Decalogues—away—
To love thee Year by Year— May less appear Than sacrifice, and cease— However, dear, Forever might be short, I thought to show— And so I pieced it, with a flower, now.
To lose one’s faith—surpass The loss of an Estate— Because Estates can be Replenished—faith cannot— Inherited with Life— Belief—but once—can be— Annihilate a single clause— And Being’s—Beggary—
To learn the Transport by the Pain As Blind Men learn the sun! To die of thirst—suspecting That Brooks in Meadows run! To stay the homesick—homesick feet Upon a foreign shore— Haunted by native lands, the while— And blue—beloved air!…
To know just how He suffered—would be dear— To know if any Human eyes were near To whom He could entrust His wavering gaze— Until it settle broad—on Paradise— To know if He was patient—part content— Was Dying as He…
To interrupt His Yellow Plan The Sun does not allow Caprices of the Atmosphere— And even when the Snow Heaves Balls of Specks, like Vicious Boy Directly in His Eye— Does not so much as turn His Head Busy with…
To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing— Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird Who sings the same, unheard, As unto Crowd— The Fashion of the Ear Attireth that it hear In Dun, or…
To hang our head—ostensibly— And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind— Affords the sly presumption That in so dense a fuzz— You—too—take Cobweb attitudes Upon a plane of Gauze!