As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring; like each tucked string…
Elected silence sing to me, and beat upon my whorle’d ear;pipe me to pastures still and be the music that…
People love to stroll along the edge of the North American continent, lazily beachcombing among the driftwood for treasures washed…
Elected silence sing to me, and beat upon my whorle’d ear;pipe me to pastures still and be the music that…
Oh ye! Who have your eyeballs vex’d and tir’dfeast them upon the wideness of the sea.[i] Walking the two miles…