The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
New feet within my garden go— New fingers stir the sod— A Troubadour upon the Elm Betrays the solitude. New children play upon the green— New Weary sleep below— And still the pensive Spring returns— And still the punctual snow!
Never for Society He shall seek in vain— Who His own acquaintance Cultivate—Of Men Wiser Men may weary— But the Man within Never knew Satiety— Better entertain Than could Border Ballad— Or Biscayan Hymn— Neither introduction Need You—unto Him—
Nature—sometimes sears a Sapling— Sometimes—scalps a Tree— Her Green People recollect it When they do not die— Fainter Leaves—to Further Seasons— Dumbly testify— We—who have the Souls— Die oftener—Not so vitally—
Nature the gentlest mother is, Impatient of no child, The feeblest of the waywardest. Her admonition mild In forest and the hill By traveller be heard, Restraining rampant squirrel Or too impetuous bird. How fair her conversation A summer afternoon,…
Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets,– Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman, Yellow she affords Only scantly and selectly, Like a lover’s words.
The sun sets on the hill And paints the sky with red The birds sing their farewell And fly to their cozy bed But some will never rise To greet the dawn again Their wings are still and cold Their…
Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity. Yet Neither told—that I could learn— My Secret as secure As Herschel’s private interest Or Mercury’s affair—
Myself was formed—a Carpenter— An unpretending time My Plane—and I, together wrought Before a Builder came— To measure our attainments— Had we the Art of Boards Sufficiently developed—He’d hire us At Halves— My Tools took Human—Faces— The Bench, where we…
My Worthiness is all my Doubt— His Merit—all my fear— Contrasting which, my quality Do lowlier—appear— Lest I should insufficient prove For His beloved Need— The Chiefest Apprehension Upon my thronging Mind— ‘Tis true—that Deity to stoop Inherently incline— For…
My wheel is in the dark! I cannot see a spoke Yet know its dripping feet Go round and round. My foot is on the Tide! An unfrequented road— Yet have all roads A clearing at the end— Some have…