#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
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…
Below the sunset’s range of rose, Below the heaven’s deepening blue, Down woodways where the balsam blo… And milkweed tufts hang, gray with… A Jersey heifer stops and lows–
She took her babe, the child of sh… And wrapped it warmly in her shawl… From house to house for work. Pro… A look of wonder on her; raised a… Of Christian outrage. None would…
And the boy that lives next door Said to me one day, There’s more In those rhymes of Mother Goose And those tales, I don’t care who… Arabian Nights or Grimm’s, or, we…
THE sunset was a sleepy gold, And stars were in the skies When down a weedy lane he strolled In vague and thoughtless wise. And then he saw it, near a wood,
I have heard the wind on a winter’… When the snow-cold moon looked ici… My window’s flickering firelight, Where the frost his witchery drew: I have heard the wind on a winter’…
Three memories hold us ever With longing and with pain; Three memories Time has never Been able to restrain; That in each life remain
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…
A mile of moonlight and the whispe… A mile of shadow and the odorous l… One large, white star above the so… Like one sweet wish: and, laughter… Wild-roses wistful in a web of rai…
On the barren hillside lone he sat… On his head he wore a tattered hat… In his hand he bore a crooked staf… Never heard I laughter like his l… On the barren hillside, thistle-ho…
Why speak of Giamschid rubies Whence rosy starlight drips? I know a richer crimson, The ruby of her lips. Why speak of pearls of Oman
He closed his eyes, yet still coul… The leprous hills loom thirstily; The mesquit glimmering; and the du… Of alkali; and, rimmed with rust Of emerald, a mineral pool
Awake! the dawn is on the hills! Behold, at her cool throat a rose, Blue-eyed and beautiful she goes, Leaving her steps in daffodils.- Awake! arise! and let me see
All day the clouds hung ashen with… And through the snow the muffled w… The day seemed drowned in grief to… Like some old hermit whose last be… At eve the wind woke, and the snow…
On receiving a bottle of Sherry W… WHAT 'blushing Hippocrene’ is he… Of the 'warm South’ with magic of… Through which again I seem to vie… Of all Cervantes’ dreams, his hea…