#Americans
When dusk is drowned in drowsy dre… And slow the hues of sunset die; When firefly and moth go by, And in still streams the new moon… Another moon and sky:
Under mossy oak and pine Whispering falls the fountained st… In its pool the lilies shine Silvery, each a moonlight gleam. Roses bloom and roses die
Thus have I pictured her:-In Ard… A white-browed maiden with a falco… Rose-flushed of face, with locks o… Teaching her hawks to fly. Or, 'mid her boar-hounds, panting…
Joy’s is the magic sweet, That makes Youth’s pulses beat, Puts music in young feet, The old heart hears, the sad heart… And Joy’s the pleasant pain,
To me not only does her soul sugge… Palms and the peace of tropic shor… But, oceaned far beyond the golden… The Fortunate Islands of true Wo…
He waited till within her tower Her taper signalled him the hour. He was a prince both fair and brav… What hope that he would love her s… He of the Persian dynasty;
Here’s to her who bears the name Of our State; May the glory of her fame Be as great! In the battle’s dread eclipse,
The dawn is a warp of fever, The eve is a woof of fire; And the month is a singing weaver Weaving a red desire. With stars Dawn dices with Even
You have shut me out from your tea… Over the man laid low and hoary. Listen to me now: I am no thief! You have shut me out from your tea… Listen to me, I will tell my stor…
Here is a tale for prelates and fo… There was a scarecrow once, a thin… And sticks and straw, to whom men… Of weighty moment murders, thefts… None saw he was a scarecrow. Ever…
Under the boughs of spring She swung in the old rope-swing. Her cheeks, with their happy blood… Were pink as the apple-bud. Her eyes, with their deep delight,
First I asked the honeybee, Busy in the balmy bowers; Saying, ‘Sweetheart, tell it me: Have you seen her, honeybee? She is cousin to the flowers
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.
Briar and fennel and chinquapin, And rue and ragweed everywhere; The field seemed sick as a soul wi… Or dead of an old despair, Born of an ancient care.
If it so befalls that the midnight… In mist no moonlight breaks, The leagues of the years my spirit… And my self myself forsakes. And I live in a land of stars and…