The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
They know the wilings of the world, The latest flippancy;They know each jest at hazard hurled, But know not me.They know a phasm they name as me, In whom I should not findA single self-held quality Of body or mind.
“Where is that woman of the west, Good Sir, once friends with me,In rays of her own rareness drest,And fired by sunset from the sea? Yes, she—once friends with me.””—She went to sojourn in the east, O stranger Dame, one…
Do you think of me at all, Wistful ones?Do you think of me at all As if nigh?Do you think of me at allAt the creep of evenfall,Or when the sky-birds call As they fly?Do you look for me at…
Dora’s gone to Ireland Through the sleet and snow;Promptly she has gone there In a ship, althoughWhy she’s gone to Ireland Dora does not know.That was where, yea, Ireland, Dora wished to be:When she felt, in lone times, Shoots of…
“Did no one else, then, see them, man, Lying among the whin?Did no one else, behold them at all Commit this shameless sin,But you, in the hollow of the down No traveller’s eye takes in?””Nobody else, my noble lord, Saw…
“Peace upon earth !” was said. We sing it, And pay a million priests to bring it. After two thousand years of mass We’ve got as far as poison-gas.
Yes; yes; I am old. In me appears The history of a hundred years;Empires’, kings’, captives’, births and deaths, Strange faiths, and fleeting shibboleths. —Tragedy, comedy, throngs my page Beyond all mummed on any stage: Cold hearts beat hot, hot…
I looked back as I left the house,And, past the chimneys and neighbour tree,The moon upsidled through the boughs:—I thought: “I shall a last time seeThis picture; when will that time be?”I paused amid the laugh-loud feast,And selfward said: “…
A Ballad of DurnoverThe little boy legged on through the dark, To hear the New-Year’s ringing;The three-mile road was empty, stark, No sound or echo bringing.When he got to the tall church tower Standing upon the hill,Although it was hard on the midnight…
ILush summer lit the trees to green; But in the ditch hard byLay dying boughs some hand unseenHad lopped when first with festal mien They matched their mates on high.It seemed a melancholy fateThat leaves but brought to birth so…