The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,— Nature’s observatory—whence the dell, Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell, May seem a span; let…
Hadst thou liv’d in days of old, O what wonders had been told Of thy lively countenance, And thy humid eyes that dance In the midst of their own brightness; In the very fane of lightness. Over which thine eyebrows,…
Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song; Nor can remembrance, Mathew! bring to view A fate more pleasing, a delight more true Than that in which the brother Poets joy’d, Who with…
Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That…
Give me a golden pen, and let me lean On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Bring me a tablet whiter than a star, Or hand of hymning angel, when ’tis seen The silver strings of heavenly harp atween:…
In after-time, a sage of mickle lore Yclep’d Typographus, the Giant took. And did refit his limbs as heretofore, And made him read in many a learned book. And into many a lively legend look; Thereby in goodly themes so…
Keen, fitful gusts are whisp’ring here and there Among the bushes half leafless, and dry ; The stars look very cold about the sky, And I have many miles on foot to fare. Yet feel I little of the cool…
How many bards gild the lapses of time! A few of them have ever been the food Of my delighted fancy, — I could brood Over their beauties, earthly, or’ sublime : And often, when I sit me down to…
Fresh morning gusts have blown away all fear From my glad bosom,—now from gloominess I mount for ever—not an atom less Than the proud laurel shall content my bier. No! by the eternal stars! or why sit here In the…
1. God of the golden bow, And of the golden lyre, And of the golden hair, And of the golden fire, Charioteer Of the patient year, Where—-where slept thine ire, When like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath,…