#AmericanWriters
We sat within the farm—house old, Whose windows, looking o’er the ba… Gave to the sea—breeze damp and co… An easy entrance, night and day. Not far away we saw the port,
I saw, as in a dream sublime, The balance in the hand of Time. O’er East and West its beam impen… And day, with all its hours of lig… Was slowly sinking out of sight,
Oh the long and dreary Winter! Oh the cold and cruel Winter! Ever thicker, thicker, thicker Froze the ice on lake and river, Ever deeper, deeper, deeper
In the market-place of Bruges sta… Thrice consumed and thrice rebuild… town. As the summer morn was breaking, o… And the world threw off the darkne…
Black shadows fall From the lindens tall, That lift aloft their massive wall Against the southern sky; And from the realms
In the Old Colony days, in Plymo… To and fro in a room of his simple… Clad in doublet and hose, and boot… Strode, with a martial air, Miles… Buried in thought he seemed, with…
Come to me, O ye children! For I hear you at your play, And the questions that perplexed m… Have vanished quite away. Ye open the eastern windows,
The sea awoke at midnight from its… And round the pebbly beaches far a… I heard the first wave of the risi… Rush onward with uninterrupted swe… A voice out of the silence of the…
Soon as the story reached its end, One, over eager to commend, Crowned it with injudicious praise… And then the voice of blame found… And fanned the embers of dissent
In the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city, As the evening shades descended, Low and loud and sweetly blended, Low at times and loud at times,
The night is come, but not too soo… And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. There is no light in earth or heav…
I have a vague remembrance Of a story, that is told In some ancient Spanish legend Or chronicle of old. It was when brave King Sanchez
In the Valley of the Vire Still is seen an ancient mill, With its gables quaint and queer, And beneath the window-sill, On the stone,
And now along the horizon’s edge Mountains of cloud uprose, Black as with forests underneath, Above their sharp and jagged teeth Were white as drifted snows.