Spicewood
The book Spicewood was written by author Here you can read free online of Spicewood book, rate and share your impressions in comments. If you don't know what to write, just answer the question: Why is Spicewood a good or bad book?
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In our eReader you can find the full English version of the book. Read Spicewood 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 Spicewood
What reading level is Spicewood book?
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
[35] LIKE WIND BEHIND THE WALL RUN to me, little cares; run, every fret And drudgery that prick the uneasy light; Hold me and hurt me ; even in the night So pack my dreams, I shall forget forget. Turn me into a dull, poor, careful thing Of house and table-settings nothing more; A wisp, a shred of what I was before, Quit of the custom of remembering. But no and no ! Like wind behind the wall, He wanders sighing down the ancient mold; Drifts through some crevice, with a racing breath Of brambles ...blowing very fair and tall ; Sudden he bursts upon me as of old, Marching triumphant from the doom of death!
[36] AN AUTUMN DAY MORE wistful than a bough in spring, More haunted than an early star, This day set for remembering, In hushes where the lonely are.
Its painted windows down the lane The trees once thick with plaintive gold Are shattered everyone in twain, The fragments strewn on the grey mould.
And now the wind comes pouring through, As in an old house none do keep, Not even an ancient wife or two, To sigh, and nod, and fall asleep.
What to read after Spicewood?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Lizette Woodworth Reese to read onlineMoreLess
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
[35] LIKE WIND BEHIND THE WALL RUN to me, little cares; run, every fret And drudgery that prick the uneasy light; Hold me and hurt me ; even in the night So pack my dreams, I shall forget forget. Turn me into a dull, poor, careful thing Of house and table-settings nothing more; A wisp, a shred of what I was before, Quit of the custom of remembering. But no and no ! Like wind behind the wall, He wanders sighing down the ancient mold; Drifts through some crevice, with a racing breath Of brambles ...blowing very fair and tall ; Sudden he bursts upon me as of old, Marching triumphant from the doom of death!
[36] AN AUTUMN DAY MORE wistful than a bough in spring, More haunted than an early star, This day set for remembering, In hushes where the lonely are.
Its painted windows down the lane The trees once thick with plaintive gold Are shattered everyone in twain, The fragments strewn on the grey mould.
And now the wind comes pouring through, As in an old house none do keep, Not even an ancient wife or two, To sigh, and nod, and fall asleep.
What to read after Spicewood?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Lizette Woodworth Reese to read onlineMoreLess
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