The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
Our fathers in their books and speechHave made the matter plain:The green fields they walked in onceWill never grow again.The corn lies under the locust’s toothOr blistered in the sun;The faces of the old proud stockAre gone where their years…
Now we remember all: the wild pear-tree,The broken ribbons of the green-and-goldPortfolio, with sketches from an oldAlgerian campaign; the placid threeWomen at coffee by the window, fatesOf nothing ominous, waiting for the ringOf the postman’s bell; we harbor everything—The cores…
When the footbridge washes away,And the lights along the bankAccost each other no longer,But the wild grass grows up rank,And no one comes to standWhere neighbor and neighbor stood,And each house is drawn in to itselfAnd shuttered against the road,…
All changed now through neglect. The steps dismantled By infantries of ants, by roots and storms,The pillars tugged by vines, the porte-cochère A passageway for winds, the solemn porches Warped into caricatures. We came at eveningAfter the rain, when every…
The motes that still disturbed her lidded calmWere these: the tick and whisper of a shadeAgainst the sill; a cobweb-film that hungAslant a corner moulding, too elusiveFor any but the gaze of straitened eyes;The nimbus of the night-lamp, where a…
Enclosed in this disturbing mutual wood,Wounded alike by thorns of the same tree,We seek in hopeless war each other’s bloodThough suffering in one identity.Each to the other prey and huntsman known,Still driven together, lonelier that alone. Strange mating of the…
We smile at astrological hopesAnd leave the sky to expert menWho do not reckon horoscopesBut painfully extend their kenIn mathematical debateWith slide and photographic plate. And yet, protest it if we will,Some corner of the mind retainsThe medieval man, who…
An old man’s wasting brain; a ruined cityWhere here and there against the febrile skyThe shaft of an unbroken column rises,And in the sands indifferent lizards keepThe shattered traces of old monuments.Here where the death of the imaginationTrances the mind…
And when was dust a thing so rash?Or when could dust support the lashAnd stand as arrogant as stone?And where has revelation shownConceit and rage so interfusedIn dust, that suns have stood bemusedTo watch the reckless consequence?And when did dust…
They said to us, or tried to say, and failed: With dust implicit in the uncurled greenFirst leaf, and all the early garden knowingThat after rose-red petals comes the bleakImpoverished stalk, the black dejected leafCrumpled and dank, we should at…