The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
Lightly, O lightly we bear her along, She sways like a flower in the wind of our song; She skims like a bird on the foam of a stream, She floats like a laugh from the lips of a dream. Gaily, O gaily we…
Deign, Prince, my tribute to receive,This lyric offering to your name,Who round your jewelled scepter bindThe lilies of a poet’s fame;Beneath whose sway concordant dwellThe peoples whom your laws embrace,In brotherhood of diverse creeds,And harmony of diverse race: The votaries…
See how the speckled sky burns like a pigeon’s throat,Jewelled with embers of opal and peridote.See the white river that flashes and scintillates,Curved like a tusk from the mouth of the city-gates.Hark, from the minaret, how the muezzin’s callFloats like…
Have you found me, at last, O my Dream? Seven eons agoYou died and I buried you deep under forests of snow.Why have you come hither? Who bade you awake from your sleepAnd track me beyond the cerulean foam of…
Children, ye have not lived, to you it seemsLife is a lovely stalactite of dreams,Or carnival of careless joys that leapAbout your hearts like billows on the deepIn flames of amber and of amethyst. Children, ye have not lived, ye…
The serpents are asleep among the poppies,The fireflies light the soundless panther’s wayTo tangled paths where shy gazelles are straying,And parrot-plumes outshine the dying day.O soft! the lotus-buds upon the streamAre stirring like sweet maidens when they dream. A caste-mark…
Weavers, weaving at break of day,Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,We weave the robes of a new-born child. Weavers, weaving at fall of night,Why do you weave a…
She Like a serpent to the calling voice of flutes,Glides my heart into thy fingers, O my Love!Where the night-wind, like a lover, leans aboveHis jasmine-gardens and sirisha-bowers;And on ripe boughs of many-coloured fruitsBright parrots cluster like vermilion flowers. He…
Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fireDrink deep of the hush of the hyacinth heavens that glimmer around them in fountains of light;O wild and entrancing the strain of keen music that cleaveth the stars…
Here, O my heart, let us burn the dear dreams that are dead,Here in this wood let us fashion a funeral pyreOf fallen white petals and leaves that are mellow and red,Here let us burn them in noon’s flaming torches…