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Poems by this Poet
Displaying 21 - 30 of 91
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As one turned round on some high mountain top
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But into order falls our life at last
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Long Island! yes! When first my vision swept
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Young Silas Long, a carrier through these woods
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That boy, the farmer said, with hazel wand
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Yes! the dead pines and deersfoot on the ground
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Nor idle all, though naught he sees in thine
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Episode: yet with a relish rank, An
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Yes, though the brine may from the desert deep
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But we are set to strive to make our mark
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