#AmericanWriters
Most beautiful, most gentle! Yet… To all that gladdens the fair eart… That watched her being; the matern… That kept and nourished her; and t… That steals from our own thoughts,…
Downward through the evening twili… In the days that are forgotten, In the unremembered ages, From the full moon fell Nokomis, Fell the beautiful Nokomis,
Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senes… Et fugiunt freno non remorante die… Ovid, Fastorum, Lib. vi. 'O Cæsar, we who are about to die Salute you! ' was the gladiators’…
Nine sisters, beautiful in form an… Came from their convent on the shi… Of Pierus, the mountain of deligh… To dwell among the people at its b… Then seemed the world to change.…
When the long murmur of applause That greeted the Musician’s lay Had slowly buzzed itself away, And the long talk of Spectre Ship… That followed died upon their lips
Ah, Love! Perjured, false, treacherous Love… Enemy Of all that mankind may not rue! Most untrue
As a fond mother, when the day is… Leads by the hand her little child… Half willing, half reluctant to be… And leave his broken playthings on… Still gazing at them through the o…
Warm and still is the summer night… As here by the river’s brink I wa… White overhead are the stars, and… The glimmering lamps on the hillsi… Silent are all the sounds of day;
I stand beneath the tree, whose br… Thy western window, Chapel of St.… And hear its leaves repeat their b… On him, whose hand thy stones memo… Then I remember one of whom was s…
And King Olaf heard the cry, Saw the red light in the sky, Laid his hand upon his sword, As he leaned upon the railing, And his ships went sailing, sailin…
Under Mount Etna he lies, It is slumber, it is not death; For he struggles at times to arise… And above him the lurid skies Are hot with his fiery breath.
I am the God Thor, I am the War God, I am the Thunderer! Here in my Northland, My fastness and fortress,
‘Signor Luigi,’ said the Jew, When the Sicilian’s tale was told… ‘The were-wolf is a legend old, But the were-ass is something new, And yet for one I think it true.
The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village
Sweet faces, that from pictured ca… As from a castle window, looking d… On some gay pageant passing throug… Yourselves the fairest figures in… With what a gentle grace, with wha…