#AmericanWriters
All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low;
The guests were loud, the ale was… King Olaf feasted late and long; The hoary Scalds together sang; O’erhead the smoky rafters rang. Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsa…
I said unto myself, if I were dea… What would befall these children?… Their fate, who now are looking up… For help and furtherance? Their l… Would be a volume wherein I have…
'What was the end? I am ashamed Not to remember Reynard’s fate; I have not read the book of late; Was he not hanged?' the Poet said… The Student gravely shook his hea…
Ah me! ah me! when thinking of the… The vanished years, alas, I do no… Among them all one day that was my… Fallacious hope; desires of the un… Lamenting, loving, burning, and in…
The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through clouds like ashes
Is it so far from thee Thou canst no longer see, In the Chamber over the Gate, That old man desolate, Weeping and wailing sore
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…
I am poor and old and blind; The sun burns me, and the wind Blows through the city gate And covers me with dust From the wheels of the august
If thou art sleeping, maiden, Awake, and open thy door: 'Tis the break of day, and we must… O’er meadow, and mount, and moor. Wait not to find thy slippers,
Once upon Iceland’s solitary stra… A poet wandered with his book and… Seeking some final word, some swee… Wherewith to close the volume in h… The billows rolled and plunged upo…
PLEASANTLY rose next morn the… Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sw… Where the ships, with their waveri… Life had long been astir in the vi… Knocked with its hundred hands at…
Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of St… Sail on, O Union, strong and grea… Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years… Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
O, how blest are ye whose toils ar… Who, through death, have unto God… Ye have arisen From the cares which keep us still… We are still as in a dungeon livin…
The summer sun is sinking low; Only the tree-tops redden and glow… Only the weathercock on the spire Of the neighboring church is a fla… All is in shadow below.