Theodore Tilton Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Jean de La Fontaine Frances Sargent Locke Osgood Susan Coolidge Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Alfred Lord Tennyson Bayard Taylor Gerald Massey Rose Hartwick Thorpe Frank Dempster Sherman Walter M. Lindsay John Keats Rose Terry Cooke James Whitcomb Riley Thomas Campbell Edgar Allan Poe Lydia Howard Sigourney Anne Whitney Eugene Field Achsa White Sprague Christina Rossetti John Grosvenor Wilson Christopher Marlowe Oliver Wendell Holmes Hans Christian Andersen John Banister Tabb Robert Burns Celia Thaxter Thomas Moore John Hay Robert Browning Thomas Hood James Nack Alexander Pushkin Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Ben Jonson John Greenleaf Whittier Edmund Clarence Stedman William Wordsworth Madison Julius Cawein Phoebe Carey Aesop Jean Ingelow Mary Mapes Dodge And more ...
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Free Classic Literature

Litscape.com provides free access to great works of classic literature. These works are presented in a friendly format for your reading pleasure. All works are indexed by title, first line, last line, and moral (for fables). New pieces are added daily, so visit often. Enjoy!

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hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia = The fear of long words.

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Just The Worlds Best Caesar Salad Dressing Recipe

This has nothing to do with literature or words, but this stuff is sheer poetry to lettuce. I will not order caesar salad in a restaurant or buy caesar salad dressing in the supermarket. In my opinion, nothing touches this recipe, and it is very easy and inexpensive to make. Mix it all together and let it sit a few hours in the fridge to let the flavors mix. Toss it with romaine lettuce (or any lettuce) and croutons. This is so good, it would be truly selfish not to share it with my readers. Enjoy!

1 c. mayonnaise (Hellman's works best. Miracle Whip doesn't have the right flavors for this recipe.)
2 fresh garlic cloves, crushed
1/4 c. half and half cream or milk
1/3 c. grated parmesan cheese
2 tbsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 tbsp. dijon mustard
2 tsp. worcestershire sauce
Salt and pepper to taste (it is still very good if you omit the salt)
2 anchovie fillets, chopped (optional)

Just The Worlds Butter Tart Recipe

Nothing goes better with poetry and Scrabble like a good cup of coffee, caesar salad and butter tarts. Many will tell you that butter tarts are fattening, too sweet, etc. They may have a point, so if you are going to eat them, make sure they are good ones, and these are the best.

1/2 c. melted butter
1 3/4 c. brown sugar
1 tbsp lemon juice or vinegar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup raisins
1/2 c. nut meats (or replace with more raisins, either way it is good.)

Beat the eggs, sugar, lemon, and vanilla until well mixed. Stir in the melted butter, fruit and nuts. Line tins with pastry and fill each about 2/3 full. (Frozen tart shells work well and are so easy.) Bake at 425F for 10 minutes, then 10-15 minutes at 350F. Makes 24 tarts.

Featured Selections

Be Not Content by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Be not content -- contentment means inaction;
The growing soul aches on its upward quest;
Satiety is twin to satisfaction;
All great achievements spring from life's unrest.

Beautiful Sleep by Achsa White Sprague

Beautiful sleep!
We call you, we implore you,
Come to us now;
Help us to rest the weary head,
From which the strength and power have fled,
And soothe the aching brow.

Birds Of Passage by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Black shadows fall
From the lindens tall,
That lift aloft their massive wall
Against the southern sky;

And from the realms
Of the shadowy elms
A tide-like darkness overwhelms
The fields that round us lie.

Forest Music by Hannah Flagg Gould

There's a sad loneliness about my heart, --
A deep, deep solitude the spirit feels
Amid this multitude. The things of art
Pall on the senses -- from its pageantry,
Loathing, my eye turns off; and my ear shrinks
From the harsh dissonance that fills the air.

Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti

Morning and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries,
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries; --
All ripe together
In summer weather, --
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy:
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye
Come buy, come buy.

Is it that in some brighter sphere... by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Is it that in some brighter sphere
We part from friends we meet with here?
Or do we see the Future pass
Over the Present's dusky glass?
Or what is that that makes us seem
To patch up fragments of a dream,
Part of which comes true, and part
Beats and trembles in the heart?

Lewti (The Circassian Love-Chaunt) by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

At midnight by the stream I roved,
To forget the form I loved.
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.

Mistakes by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

God sent us here to make mistakes,
To strive, to fail, to re-begin,
To taste the tempting fruit of sin,
And find what bitter food it makes,

Mutability. (We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon...) by Percy Bysshe Shelley

We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly!--yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever;

Satiety by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

To yearn for what we have not had, to sit
With hungry eyes glued on the Future's gate,
Why, that is heaven compared to having it
With all the power gone to appreciate.

Secret Thoughts by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I hold it true that thoughts are things
Endowed with bodies, breath, and wings,
And that we send them forth to fill
The world with good results - or ill.

The Lake Of The Dismal Swamp. by Thomas Moore

They made her a grave, too cold and damp
For a soul so warm and true;
And she 's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp,
Where, all night long, by a fire-fly lamp,
She paddles her white canoe.

The Pit And The Pendulum by Edgar Allan Poe

I was sick -- sick unto death with that long agony; and when they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that my senses were leaving, me. The sentence -- the dread sentence of death -- was the last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears. After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in one dreamy indeterminate hum. It conveyed to my soul the idea of revolution, perhaps from its association in fancy with the burr of a mill-wheel.

The Yankee Tea-Party by Hannah Flagg Gould

King George sat high on his family throne,
The 'lord of the isles,' that were fairly his own,
And might have sufficed, had his majesty known
The folly of coveting more.
But, seeking a tribute his pomp to maintain,
He reached from his island to grasp at the main,
Intending his coffers should swell with the gain
Brought off from a distant shore.

Tis The Last Rose Of Summer by Thomas Moore

'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flow'r of her kindred,
No rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh!

To A Blank Sheet Of Paper by Oliver Wendell Holmes

Wan-visaged thing! thy virgin leaf
To me looks more than deadly pale,
Unknowing what may stain thee yet, --
A poem or a tale.

Who can thy unborn meaning scan?
Can Seer or Sibyl read thee now?
No, -- seek to trace the fate of man
Writ on his infant brow.

Weariness by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

O little feet! that such long years
Must wander on through hopes and fears,
Must ache and bleed beneath your load;
I, nearer to the Wayside Inn
Where toil shall cease and rest begin,
Am weary, thinking of your road!

When Love came first to earth, the spring ... by Thomas Campbell

WHEN LOVE came first to earth, the SPRING
Spread rose-beds to receive him,
And back he vow'd his flight he'd wing
To Heaven, if she should leave him.