#AmericanWriters
I WOULD the gift I offer here Might graces from thy favor take, And, seen through Friendship’s at… On softened lines and coloring, we… The unaccustomed light of beauty,…
Years since (but names to me befor… Two sisters sought at eve my door; Two song-birds wandering from thei… A gray old farm-house in the West… How fresh of life the younger one,
Dead Petra in her hill-tomb sleep… Her stones of emptiness remain; Around her sculptured mystery swee… The lonely waste of Edom’s plain. From the doomed dwellers in the cl…
The autumn-time has come; On woods that dream of bloom, And over purpling vines, The low sun fainter shines. The aster-flower is failing,
Some die too late and some too soo… At early morning, heat of noon, Or the chill evening twilight. Th… Whom the rich heavens did so endow With eyes of power and Jove’s own…
Father! to Thy suffering poor Strength and grace and faith impar… And with Thy own love restore Comfort to the broken heart! Oh, the failing ones confirm
As o’er his furrowed fields which… Beneath a coldly dropping sky, Yet chill with winter’s melted sno… The husbandman goes forth to sow, Thus, Freedom, on the bitter blas…
The blast from Freedom’s Northern… Bears greeting to Virginia from M… No word of haughty challenging, no… Nor steady tread of marching files… No trains of deep-mouthed cannon a…
ANNIE and Rhoda, sisters twain, Woke in the night to the sound of… The rush of wind, the ramp and roa… Of great waves climbing a rocky sh… Annie rose up in her bed-gown whit…
A DREAR and desolate shore! Where no tree unfolds its leaves, And never the spring wind weaves Green grass for the hunter’s tread… A land forsaken and dead,
Outbound, your bark awaits you. W… Whose prayer availeth much, my wis… Your favoring trad-wind and consen… By sail or steed was never love ou… And, here or there, love follows h…
From purest wells of English unde… None deeper drank than he, the Ne… Who in the language of their farm-… The wit and wisdom of New England… Shaming a monstrous wrong. The wo…
STILL in thy streets, O Paris!… Of blood defy the cleansing autumn… Still breaks the smoke Messina’s… And Naples mourns that new Bartho… When squalid beggary, for a dole o…
A picture memory brings to me I look across the years and see Myself beside my mother’s knee. I feel her gentle hand restrain My selfish moods, and know again
A track of moonlight on a quiet la… Whose small waves on a silver-sand… Whisper of peace, and with the low… Such harmonies as keep the woods a… And listening all night long for t…
