#AmericanWriters
Mr. Finney had a turnip, And it grew, and it grew, And it grew behind the barn, And the turnip did no harm. And it grew, and it grew,
I have read, in some old, marvello… Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres p… Beleaguered the walls of Prague. Beside the Moldau’s rushing strea…
When the summer fields are mown, When the birds are fledged and flo… And the dry leaves strew the path; With the falling of the snow, With the cawing of the crow,
When Alcuin taught the sons of Ch… In the free schools of Aix, how k… And with them taught the children… How subjects should be patient and… He touched the lips of some, as be…
Turn, turn, my wheel? Turn round… Without a pause, without a sound: So spins the flying world away! This clay, well mixed with marl an… Follows the motion of my hand;
Othere, the old sea—captain, Who dwelt in Helgoland, To King Alfred, the Lover of Tru… Brought a snow—white walrus—tooth, Which he held in his brown right h…
How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain!
Stay, stay at home, my heart, and… Home-keeping hearts are happiest, For those that wander they know no… Are full of trouble and full of ca… To stay at home is best.
TRAVELLER Why dost thou wildly rush and roar… Mad River, O Mad River? Wilt thou not pause and cease to p… Thy hurrying, headlong waters o’er
‘He is gone to the desert land I can see the shining mane Of his horse on the distant plain, As he rides with his Kossak band! ’Come back, rebellious one!
The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through clouds like ashes
I leave you, ye cold mountain chai… Dwelling of warriors stark and fro… You, may these eyes behold no more… Rave on the horizon of our plains. Vanish, ye frightful, gloomy views…
In the heroic days when Ferdinand And Isabella ruled the Spanish la… And Torquemada, with his subtle b… Ruled them, as Grand Inquisitor o… In a great castle near Valladolid…
Listen, my children, and you shall… Of the midnight ride of Paul Reve… On the eighteenth of April, in 'S… Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and…
Where are the Poets, unto whom be… The Olympian heights; whose singi… Straight to the mark, and not from… But with the utmost tension of the… Where are the stately argosies of…
