#Americans
Since you remember Nimmo, and arr… At such a false and florid and far… Confusion of odd nonsense, I conn… No longer, though I may have led… So much is told and heard and told…
By what serene malevolence of name… Had you the gift of yours, Theoph… Not even a smeared young Cyclops… Would have you long,—and you are o… Told of your deeds I shudder for…
Between me and the sunset, like a… Against the glory of a world on fi… Now burned a sudden hill, Bleak, round, and high, by flame-l… With nothing on it for the flame t…
Dear Friends, reproach me not for… Nor counsel me, nor pity me; nor s… That I am wearing half my life aw… For bubble-work that only fools pu… And if my bubbles be too small for…
O’Leary was a poet—for a while: He sang of many ladies frail and f… The rolling glory of their golden… And emperors extinguished with a s… They foiled his years with many an…
From the Past and Unavailing Out of cloudland we are steering: After groping, after fearing, Into starlight we come trailing, And we find the stars are true.
A melanholy face Charles Carville… But not so melancholy as it seemed… When once you knew him, for his mo… His insufficient eyes, forever sad… In them there was no life-glimpse,…
NOTE.—Rahel Robert and Varnh… Now you have read them all; or if… As many as in all conscience I sh… To be enough. There are no more o… Or none to burn your sleep, or to…
Faint white pillars that seem to f… As you look from here are the firs… Of his house where it hides and di… Of beeches and oaks and hickory tr… Now many a man, given woods like t…
There is a drear and lonely tract… From all the common gloom removed… A flat, sad land it is, where shad… Whose lorn estate my verse may nev… I walked among them and I knew th…
As we the withered ferns By the roadway lying, Time, the jester, spurns All our prayers and prying— All our tears and sighing,
I found a torrent falling in a gle… Where the sun’s light shone silver… The boom, the foam, and the mad fl… All made a magic symphony; but whe… I thought upon the coming of hard…
Nothing will hold him longer—let h… Let him go down where others have… Little he cares whether we smile o… Or if we know, or if we think we k… The call is on him for his overthr…
It may have been the pride in me f… I know, or just a patronizing whim… But call it freak of fancy, or wha… I cannot hide the hungry face of h… I keep a scant half-dozen words he…
Up the old hill to the old house a… Where fifty years ago the friend w… Who should be waiting somewhere th… Old things that least remembered m… He toiled on with a pleasure that…