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8 de mai. de 2024 · A sound I fain would wish to breathe no more; One only peace for me my hopes have found, When thy existence and wild race is o'er; When Death, with one, heals every other wound, And lays my aching head in the cold ground. O happy hour! I only wish to have. Another moment 's gasp, and then the grave. I only wish for one departing sigh,
Há 3 dias · Looked up above the glassy dew, And to the neighbouring corn-field flew, Fanning the gales of morning. In every bush was heard a song, On each grass blade, the whole way long, A silver shining drop there hung, The milky dew of morning. Where stepping-stones stride o'er the brook. The rosy maid I overtook.
27 de mai. de 2024 · Country music star John Denver died in a plane crash near Pacific Grove, California on October 12, 1997 at the age of just 53. After enjoying his music for nearly three decades beforehand, his fans around the world were left stunned. Before John Denver’s death, he took folk music to new heights with his idyllic lyrics, soaring vocals, and ...
Há 3 dias · John Clare (13 July 1793 – 20 May 1864) was an English poet. The son of a farm labourer, he became known for his celebrations of the English countryside and sorrows at its disruption. His work underwent major re-evaluation in the late 20th century; he is now often seen as a major 19th-century poet.
Há 6 dias · Ballad. A faithless shepherd courted me, He stole away my liberty. When my poor heart was strange to men, He came and smiled and stole it then. When my apron would hang low, Me he sought through frost and snow. When it puckered up with shame, And I sought him, he never came.
Há 6 dias · John Calipari was a towering figure in the world of college basketball, renowned for his coaching prowess and his ability to shape young athletes into champions both on and off the court. Born on February 10, 1959, Calipari’s passion for the game was evident from an early age, and he would go on to leave an indelible mark on the sport.
27 de mai. de 2024 · Thy honours brown round thee that clothed the tree; The clown passeth by thee and heedeth thee not, But thou'rt a warm source of reflection for me. I think, while I view thee and rest on the stile, Life 's bloom is as frail as the leaves thou hast shed; Like thee I may boast of my honours awhile, But new springs may blossom, and mine may be fled:
