#Americans #Women
Would you not be in Tryon Now that the spring is here, When mocking-birds are praising The fresh, the blossomy year? Look—on the leafy carpet
The long resounding marble corrido… shining parlors with shining women… them. The French room, with its gilt an… under plump little tumbling painte…
Little brown surf-bather of the mo… Spirit of foam, lover of cataracts… Have you no fear of the roar and r… Nevada, the shapely dancer, feelin… How dare you dash at Yosemite the…
Wind of the desert, softly blow Across the cañon shining wide. Lightly among the temples go That rise in towers of pride. Soft, lest they float away
October I5th, 1910. My friend, dear friend, why should… Over the Babel of voices, suddenl… Calling as from the new world to t… Hush!—are you weary? would you fol…
They went down to the sea in ships… In ships they went down to the sea… In boats hewn of oak-tree strips, In galleys with skin-sewn sails, In triremes, caravels, brigs—
Where bold Sierras cut the sky Mount Whitney, of the high most h… Halts the pale clouds that wander… We crept and climbed with eager fe… Until the world, fulfilled, comple…
My little one, sleep softly Among the toys and flowers. Sleep softly, O my first-born son… Through all the long dark hours. And if you waken far away
E. H. M. Nov. 17th, 1890—Feb. 13th, 1904 Still he lies, Pale, wan, and strangely wise. Under the white coverlet
She heard the children playing in… And through her window saw the whi… Sway like a film of silver in the… Under the purple hills; and one by… She noted chairs and cabinets, and…
While I walk the pavement sooty In the town, Tread the stony path of duty Up and down, Oh, the Kern, all clad in beauty—
He loved her and he was untrue— Untrue he was, let loved her still… For out of nether darkness drew The winds that lashed his wanderin… She lived in joy all unaware,
A Live-oak grows by the shallow s… Rest under its boughs, I pray, And hear of the pirate—bold was he… And the lady he stole away. He was a black-browed buccaneer,
Moscow White Moscow of the pearly towers… And golden domes for praise, And chiming hours! Red Moscow of the Kremlin walls,
Why do the wheels go whirring roun… Mother, mother? Oh, mother, are they giants bound, And will they growl forever? Yes, fiery giants underground,