#AmericanWriters
Through ferns and moss the path wo… A hollow where the touchmenots Swung horns of honey filled with d… And where like foot-prints violets… And bluets made sweet sapphire blo…
The locust gyres; the heat intensi… The rain-crow croaks from hot-leaf… The butterfly, a flame-fleck, aiml… Droops down the air and knows not… Beside the stream, whose bed in pl…
What wood-god, on this water’s mos… Lost in reflections of earth’s lov… Did I, just now, unconsciously di… I, who haphazard, wandering at a g… Came on this spot, wherein, with g…
One night I lingered in the wood And saw a spirit-form that stood Among the wildflowers. Like the d… It twinkled; partly wind and scent… Then down a moonbeam there it blew…
’Twas when the wind was blowing fr… The grey and stormy sea, I heard… And in the woods and on the ways w… And weeds were rustling brown, I caught a glimpse of face and fee…
And he had mused on lands each bir… That winged from realms of Faleri… O’er seas of the Enchanted Sword, In romance sang him, till he heard Vague foam on Islands of Alcina.
This was my dream: It seemed the afternoon Of some deep tropic day; and yet t… Stood round and bright with golden… High in a heaven bluer than the se…
Seemingly over the hill-tops, Possibly under the hills, A tireless wing that never drops, And a song that never stills. Epics heard on the stars’ lips?
Last night we were kept awake. Could n’t sleep for Old Jack Fro… Wandering round like some old ghos… Gave the door an awful shake; Knocked against my bed’s brass pos…
Along the road I smelt the rose, The wild-rose in its veil of rain; And how it was, God only knows, But with its scent I saw again A girl’s face at a window-pane,
You have forgot: it once was red With life, this rose, to which you… When, there in happy days gone by, You plucked it, on my breast to li… ‘Sleep there, O rose! how sweet a…
Come with me where April twilight… Wigwam blue the April hills; Where the shadows and the high lig… Swarm the woods that Springtime f… Tents where dwell the tribes of be…
A pond of filth a sewer flows into… Around whose edge the evil ragweed… Poison in every breath; and, cloud… Insects that sing and sting, the p… All hideousness, from every street…
THE gentian and the bluebell so Can change my calendar, I know not how the year may go, Or what the seasons are: The months, in some mysterious wis…
I. SPRING ON THE HILLS Ah, shall I follow, on the hills, The Spring, as wild wings follow? Where wild-plum trees make wan the… Crabapple trees the hollow,