The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
What if I know thy speeches word by word?And if thou knew’st I knew them wouldst thou speak?What if I know thy speeches word by word,And all the time thou sayest them o’er I said,‘Lo, one there was who bent…
Let us deride the smugness of ‘The Times’: GUFFAW!So much for the gagged reviewers,It will pay them when the worms are wriggling in theirvitals;These are they who objected to newness,Here are their tomb-stones.They supported the gag and the ring:A little…
My name is Nunty CormorantAnd my finance is sound,I lend you Englishmen hot airAt one and three the pound. I lend you Englishmen hot airAnd I get all the beefWhile you stalwart sheep of freedomAre on the poor relief. Wot…
From the French of Joachim du Bellay O thou new comer who seek’st Rome in RomeAnd find’st in Rome no thing thou canst call Roman;Arches worn old and…
This is another of our ancient loves.Pass and be silent, Rullus, for the dayHath lacked a something since this lady passed;Hath lacked a something. ‘Twas but marginal.
From Propertius, Elegiae, LIB. III, 26Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm,Do thou, Pluto, bring here no greater harshness.So many thousand beauties are gone down to Avernus,Ye might let one remain above with us. With you is lope, with you…
In vain have I striven,to teach my heart to bow;In vain have I said to him‘There be many singers greater than thou’. But his answer cometh, as winds and as lutany,As a vague crying upon the nightThat leaveth me no…
A brown, fat babe sitting in the lotus,And you were glad and laughingWith a laughter not of this world.It is good to splash in the waterAnd laughter is the end of all things.
I am a grave poetic henThat lays poetic eggsAnd to enhance my temperamentA little quiet begs. We make the yolk philosophy,True beauty the albumen.And then gum on a shell of formTo make the screed sound human.
Over the flat slope of St EloiA wide wall of sandbags.Night,In the silence desultory menPottering over small fires, cleaning their mess-tins:To and fro, from the lines,Men walk as on Piccadilly,Making paths in the dark,Through scattered dead horses,Over a dead Belgian’s…