Poems
Poems
The book Poems was written by author Here you can read free online of Poems book, rate and share your impressions in comments. If you don't know what to write, just answer the question: Why is Poems a good or bad book?
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In our eReader you can find the full English version of the book. Read Poems Online - link to read the book on full screen. Our eReader also allows you to upload and read Pdf, Txt, ePub and fb2 books. In the Mini eReder on the page below you can quickly view all pages of the book - Read Book Poems
What reading level is Poems book?
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
Are a-twinkle with little hands.
Oh, many a tress has turned to grey.
And many a song grown mute Since Rita and Meg and Trixie and I Went gathering quandong fruit.
46 WITH THE QUANDONGS And there we were on the plains alone In the hush of a drowsy air — Rita and Meg with roguish eyes And Trixie with wayward hair.
A far mirage of mingled sun and dream Was born of the noontide sleep, And the rifled fruit of the quandongs lay At our feet in a ruddy heap.
I know that the quandong's burning fruit St...ill reddens the drowsy air ; That Trixie is grown and sometime wed, And Rita is grave and fair.
I know that Meg of the roguish eyes, Though ten long years be sped, Still plucks the fruit of the quandong trees When the quandong fruit is red.
I know — and I know to my loss, alas! — That I stand where the winds blow cold, And search, with others, another tree For its scanty fruit of gold.
THE ARTIST THE year has turned the corner, Cold June is with the dead, And Spring, the singing artist. Is mixing gold and red.
What to read after Poems?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Roderic Joseph Quinn to read onlineMoreLess
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
Are a-twinkle with little hands.
Oh, many a tress has turned to grey.
And many a song grown mute Since Rita and Meg and Trixie and I Went gathering quandong fruit.
46 WITH THE QUANDONGS And there we were on the plains alone In the hush of a drowsy air — Rita and Meg with roguish eyes And Trixie with wayward hair.
A far mirage of mingled sun and dream Was born of the noontide sleep, And the rifled fruit of the quandongs lay At our feet in a ruddy heap.
I know that the quandong's burning fruit St...ill reddens the drowsy air ; That Trixie is grown and sometime wed, And Rita is grave and fair.
I know that Meg of the roguish eyes, Though ten long years be sped, Still plucks the fruit of the quandong trees When the quandong fruit is red.
I know — and I know to my loss, alas! — That I stand where the winds blow cold, And search, with others, another tree For its scanty fruit of gold.
THE ARTIST THE year has turned the corner, Cold June is with the dead, And Spring, the singing artist. Is mixing gold and red.
What to read after Poems?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Roderic Joseph Quinn to read onlineMoreLess
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