Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, ...

How far do you wander before you realise it is too late? How often does it take to realise your fail...

A lone girl reaps grain and sings in the field. Her song is sad, beautiful, and unforgettable. The s...

Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The we...

The sky leans softly into light, a quiet brush of gold and gray. Shadows linger, then take flight, a...

"Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do sha...

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume...

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wron...

This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, som...