#AmericanWriters
About the time when bluebells swin… Their elfin belfries for the bee And in the fragrant House of Spri… Wild Music moves; and Fantasy Sits weaving webs of witchery:
Between the death of day and birth… By War’s red light, I met with one in trailing sorrows… Whose features had The look of Him who died to set m…
THE old house leans upon a tree Like some old man upon a staff: The night wind in its ancient porc… Sounds like a hollow laugh. The heaven is wrapped in flying cl…
What ogive gates from gold of Oph… What walls of Pariah, whiter than… What towers of crystal, for the ey… Hast builded on far Islands of Re… Thy cloudy columns, vast, Corinth…
CALLING, the heron flies athwar… That sleeps above it; reach on roc… Of water sings by sycamore and bee… In whose warm shade bloom lilies n… It is a page whereon the sun and d…
Beyond the Northern Lights, in re… Of twilight, where the world is gl… And pale as Loki in his cavern wh… The serpent’s slaver burns him to… I saw the phantasms of gigantic me…
When my mother is n’t here, And I just won’t go to bed, And it’s cold outside and near Christmas; and the kitchen-shed ‘S covered thick with frost and sn…
The unpretentious flowers of the w… That rise in bright and banded bro… Waving us welcome, and with kisses… Laying their lives down underneath… Lesson my soul more than the tomes…
White as a lily moulded of Earth’… That eve the moon bloomed in a hya… Soft in the gleaming glens the win… Faint as a phantom clothed in unse… Bright as a naiad’s leap, from shi…
The hills hang woods around, where… Dark, breezy boughs of beech-trees… Crisp with the brittle hulls of la… The water hums one bar there; and… Of gold lies steady where the trai…
Here is a tale for ladies with rom… There was an owl; composer and mus… Who looked as wise as if he had a… And at all art cast supercilious g… People proclaimed him great becaus…
The Woolworth Building ENORMOUSLY it lifts Its tower against the splendor of… Like some wild dream that drifts Before the mind, and at the will’s…
I HAD forgot how, in my day The Sabine fields around me lay In amaranth and asphodel, With many a cold Bandusian well Bright-bubbling by the mountain-wa…
Whether it be that we in letters t… The pure exactness of a wood bird’… And name it song; or with the brus… The high perfection of a wildflowe… Or mold in difficult marble all th…
LOW, weed-climbed cliffs, o’er wh… The sea-mists swoon: Wind-twisted pines, through which… Goes winging slow: Dim fields, the sower never sows,