The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
Searching my heart for its true sorrow, This is the thing I find to be:That I am weary of words and people, Sick of the city, wanting the sea;Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness Of the strong wind and shattered spray;Wanting…
Listen, children:Your father is dead.From his old coatsI’ll make you little jackets;I’ll make you little trousersFrom his old pants.There’ll be in his pocketsThings he used to put there,Keys and penniesCovered with tobacco;Dan shall have the penniesTo save in his bank;Anne…
Doubt no more that Oberon—Never doubt that PanLived, and played a reed, and ranAfter nymphs in a dark forest,In the merry, credulous days,—Lived, and led a fairy bandOver the indulgent land! Ah, for in this dourest, sorestAge man’s eye has…
Oh, here the air is sweet and still, And soft’s the grass to lie on;And far away’s the little hill They took for Christ to die on.And there’s a hill across the brook, And down the brook’s another;But, oh, the…
Butterflies are white and blueIn this field we wander through.Suffer me to take your hand.Death comes in a day or two. All the things we ever knewWill be ashes in that hour,Mark the transient butterfly,How he hangs upon the flower.…
Mine is a body that should die at sea! And have for a grave, instead of a graveSix feet deep and the length of me, All the water that is under the wave!And terrible fishes to seize my flesh, Such…
Oh, come again to Astolat! I will not ask you to be kind.And you may go when you will go, And I will stay behind.I will not say how dear you are, Or ask you if you hold me dear,Or…
I know what my heart is like Since your love died:It is like a hollow ledgeHolding a little pool Left there by the tide, A little tepid pool,Drying inward from the edge.
“Thin Rain, whom are you haunting, That you haunt my door?”–Surely it is not I she’s wanting; Someone living here before—”Nobody’s in the house but me:You may come in if you like and see.”Thin as thread, with exquisite fingers,— Have…
Minstrel, what have you to doWith this man that, after you,Sharing not your happy fate,Sat as England’s Laureate?Vainly, in these iron days,Strives the poet in your praise,Minstrel, by whose singing sideBeauty walked, until you died. Still, though none should hark…