The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
We are two acquaintances on a train,Rattling back through darkening twilight suburbsFrom a weekend in the country, into town.The station lights flare past us, and we glanceFurtively at our watches, sit uprightOn leather benches in the smoke-dim carAnd try to…
Thoreau, lank ghost, comes back to visit Concord, Finds the town like all towns, much the same—A little less remote, less independent.The cars hurl through from dawn to dawn toward Boston Paying out speed like a lifeline between towns.Some of…
Embroidered in a tapestry of greenAmong the textures of a threaded garden,The gesturing lady and her paladinWalk in a path where shade and sunlight hardenUpon the formal attitudes of treesBy no wind bent, and birds without a tune,Against the background…
Mariner unpracticed,In this chartless zoneEvery navigatorFares unwarned, alone.Each his own MagellanIn tropics of sensation:Not a fire-scorched stoneFrom prior habitation,Not an archaic hullSplintered on the beach.These are latitudes revealedSeparate to each.
Fashions are changing in the sphere.Oceans are asking wave by waveWhat new shapes will be worn next year;And the mountains, stooped and grave,Are wondering silently range by rangeWhat if they prove too old for the change. The little tailors busily…
Like divers, we ourselves must make the jumpThat sets the taut board bounding underfootClean as an axe blade driven in a stump;But afterward what makes the body shootInto its pure and irresistible curveIs of a force beyond all bodily powers.So…
The birds about the house pretend to bePenates of our domesticity.And when the cardinal wants to play at prophetWe never tell his eminence to come off it. The crows, too, in the dawn prognosticateLike ministers at a funeral of state.The…
But you shall walk the golden street,And you unhouse and house the Lord.-Gerard Manley Hopkins Going home by lamplight across Boston Common,We heard him tell how God had entered in him,And now he had the Word, and nothing otherWould do…
The guidebooks play deception; oceans are A property of mind. All maps are fiction, All travelers come to separate frontiers.The coast, they said, is barren; birds go over Unlighting, in search of richer inland gardens. No green weed thrusts its…
Good-by to you whom I shall see tomorrow,Next year and when I’m fifty; still good-by.This is the leave we never really take.If you were dead or gone to live in ChinaThe event might draw your stature in my mind.I should…