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Darcy
https://www.goodreads.com/desmith24
“It is true, that it is not at all necessary to love many books, in order to love them much.”
―
―
“Great is the art of beginning.”
―
―
“How Beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!
How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the tramp of hoofs!
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Across the window-pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!
-"Rain in Summer”
―
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!
How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the tramp of hoofs!
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Across the window-pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!
-"Rain in Summer”
―
“The green garden, moonlit pool, lemons, lovers, and fish are all dissolved in the opal sky, across which, as the horns are joined by trumpets and supported by clarions there rise white arches firmly planted on marble pillars...”
― The String Quartet
― The String Quartet
“Snow-flakes
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.”
―
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.”
―
WSU English Department
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— last activity Aug 24, 2014 10:28PM
for faculty, staff, students of Weber State University
The Post Card Exchange
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Yay Postcards! We are an International group of people who love reading and mail. Please join our monthly postcard exchange! Newbies Welcome!
VICTOBER 2025
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— last activity Nov 04, 2025 02:35AM
Greetings all! Victober is a month-long readathon hosted each October all about reading Victorian literature. The Goodreads group remains in place, ...more
Darcy’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Darcy’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
821 books
|
64 friends
907 books
|
70 friends
3,114 books
|
34 friends
3,184 books
|
244 friends
78 books
|
22 friends
235 books
|
8 friends
598 books
|
26 friends
457 books
|
39 friends
More friends…
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