Song of Myself, by Walt Whitman
1 I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And...
Duck Poems
The Blind Highland Boy, by William Wordsworth
Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romp...
An Evening Walk, by William Wordsworth
Far from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove
...
Wild Duck, by Lola Ridge
I That was a great night we spied upon
See-sa...
The Blind Highland Boy, by William Wordsworth
Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romp...
An Evening Walk, by William Wordsworth
Far from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove
...
An Arctic Vision, by Bret Harte
Where the short-legged Eskimo
Waddle in the ic...
In the Laramie, by Charles Hazelius Sternberg
For many years my life work ply,
And many mus...
The Permian Beds of Texas, by Charles Hazelius Sternberg
In Texas, where the Wichita
Enrodes a gash, ...
The Dusky Duck, by Isaac McLellan
September nights have scarcely felt
The first ...
The End of the Year, by Isaac McLellan
As a life-weary pilgrim sinks to his last repos...
Florida Scenes and Sports, by Isaac McLellan
Here in my Northern home I love to muse,
Fair...
The Glory of Autumn, by Isaac McLellan
The generous autumn days are come,
The merrie...
My Dogs Sancho and Neptune, by Isaac McLellan
You know, my dear Sancho, the shooting is o'e...
Polar Bear, by Isaac McLellan
Amid the vast, eternal ice,
The crystal plai...
The Sand-Hill Crane and Other Wild Fowl of Mexico, by Isaac McLellan
Here in this genial Mexic land,
Where soft is...
Blood Soup, by Phil Boiarski
She called the white ducks with a soft
Cluckin...