#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Here’s the tale my father told, Walking in the park one night, When the stars shone big and brigh… And the autumn wind blew cold: Once a giant lived of old
Land-Marks The way is rock and rubbish to a r… That leads through woods of stunte… Into a valley that no flower adorn… One mass of blackened brier; overf…
The spring is coming! hear it blow… The rain and wind have cleared the… And I am going to play my fill With sunlight on the windy hill. And I am going to laugh and run,
His Birthday, October the 7th, 19… RILEY, whose pen has made the wo… Whose Art has kept you young thro… Brimming our hearts with laughter… Holding her faith pure to the very…
John-a-Dreams and Harum-Scarum Came a-riding into town: At the Sign o’ the Jug-and-Jorum There they met with Low-lie-down. Brave in shoes of Romany leather,
Down through the woods, along the… That fords the stream; by rock and… Where in the bramble-bell the bee Swings; and through twilights gree… The redbird flashes suddenly,
ABOVE the world a glare Of sunset—guns and spears; An army, no one hears, Of mist and air: Long lines of bronze and gold,
Dweller in hollow places, hills an… Daughter of Silence and old Solit… Tip-toe she stands within her cave… Her only life the noises that she…
Topsy Turvy is her name; She’s a curiosity: Never sees the world the same As it seems to you and me. ‘All the world is upside down,’
CLOVE-SPICY pinks and phlox t… With drowsy indolence; And in the evening skies Interior splendor, pregnant with s… As if in some new wise
The waterfall, deep in the wood, Talked drowsily with solitude, A soft, insistent sound of foam, That filled with sleep the forest’… Where, like some dream of dusk, sh…
Through woods the Spanish moss ma… With deeps the daylight never reac… The water sluices slow its way, And chokes with weeds its beaches. ‘T was here, lost in this lone bay…
Oh, Mignon’s mouth is like a rose… A red, red rose, that half uncurls Sweet petals o’er a crimson bee: Or like a shell, that, opening, sh… Within its rosy curve white pearls…
Its rotting fence one scarcely see… Through sumac and wild blackberrie… Thick elder and the bramble-rose, Big ox-eyed daisies where the bees Hang droning in repose.
Far to the South a star, Bright-shining over all; And a sound of voices singing, ‘Round a Babe in an ox’s-stall. Three Kings a-riding, riding,
