#AmericanWriters
The orchard lands of Long Ago! O drowsy winds, awake, and blow The snowy blossoms back to me, And all the buds that used to be! Blow back along the grassy ways
Dexery-tethery! down in the dike, Under the ooze and the slime, Nestles the wraith of a reticent… Blubbering bubbles of rhyme: Though the reeds touch him and tic…
Here’s his ragged 'roundabout’; Turn the pockets inside out: See; his pen-knife, lost to use, Rusted shut with apple-juice; Here, with marbles, top and string…
I hain’t no hand at tellin’ tales, Er spinnin’ yarns, as the sailors… Someway o’ 'nother, language fails To slide fer me in the oily way That LAWYERS has; and I wisht…
They meet to say farewell: Their… Of saying this is hard to say—. He holds her hand an Instant, who… Distressed—and she unclasps it slo… He lends his gaze evasively
I’ve ben thinkin’ back, of late, S’prisin’!—And I’m here to state I’m suspicious it’s a sign Of _age_, maybe, or decline Of my faculties,—and yit
A day of torpor in the sullen heat Of Summer’s passion: In the slugg… The panting cattle lave their lazy… With drowsy eyes, and dream. Long since the winds have died, an…
Has she forgotten? On this very M… We were to meet here, with the bir… As on that Sabbath, underneath th… We strayed among the tombs, and st… The vines from these old granites,…
Tomps 'ud allus haf to say Somepin’ ‘bout ’his mother’s way.'… _He_ lived hard-like—never jined Any church of any kind.— 'It was Mother’s way,' says he,
Low hidden in among the forest tre… An artist’s tilted easel, ankle-de… In tousled ferns and mosses, and i… A fluffy water-spaniel, half aslee… Beside a sketch-book and a fallen…
My little story, Cousin Rufus sai… Is not so much a story as a fact. It is about a certain willful boy— An aggrieved, unappreciated boy, Grown to dislike his own home very…
Just drifting on together— He and I— As through the balmy weather Of July Drift two thistle-tufts imbedded
O heart of mine, we shouldn’t Worry so! What we’ve missed of calm we could… Have, you know! What we’ve met of stormy pain,
Oh, the Circus-Day parade! How t… And how the glossy horses tossed t… As the rattle and the rhyme of the… Filled all the hungry hearts of us… How the grand band-wagon shone wit…
We must get home—for we have been… So long it seems forever and a day… And O so very homesick we have gr… The laughter of the world is like… In our tired hearing, and its song…