#AmericanWriters
Last night I lay awake and heard… That madman jongleur of the world… Making wild music: now he seemed t… With harp and lute, so intimately… They were as one; now on a drum he…
One tree, storm-twisted, like an e… The sea-wind in its hair, beside a… Waves frantic arms, as if in wild-… At all the world. Gigantic, grey… Great boulders shoulder through th…
Within the world of every man’s de… Three things have power to lift hi… Through dreams, religion, and ecst… The star-like shapes of Beauty, T… I never hoped that, this side far-…
In girandoles of gladioles The day had kindled flame; And Heaven a door of gold and pea… Unclosed when Morning, like a gir… A red rose twisted in a curl,
There in the past I see her as of… Blue-eyed and hazel-haired, within… Dim with a twilight of tenebrious… Her white face sensuous as a delic… Night opens in the tropics. Fold…
That day we wandered ‘mid the hill… Clouds are not lonelier, the fores… In emerald darkness round us. Man… And gnarly root, gray-mossed, made… And many a bird the glimmering lig…
Let us mix a cup of Joy That the wretched may employ, Whom the Fates have made their to… Who have given brain and heart To the thankless world of Art,
White clouds, like thistledown at… That drift through heaven’s azure… The sun beams down; the weedy grou… Vibrates with many an insect sound… Blackberry-lilies in the noon
Over the roar of cities, Over the hush of the hills, Mounts ever a song that never stop… A voice that never stills. Epic-loud as the sea is,
FEBRILE perfumes as of faded ro… In the old house speak of love to-… Love long past; and where the soft… Down the west gleams, golden-red,… Pointing where departed splendor p…
In the shadow of the beeches, Where the fragile wildflowers bloo… Where the pensive silence pleaches Green a roof of cool perfume, Have you felt an awe imperious
Once I gave a 'poppa-show’: And I had the greatest fun! Every boy and girl I know That is, nearly every one, Came to see it: I just put
This is the place where visions co… Dreams of the trees and flowers, g… Where the white moon and the pale… Sitting with Legend and with dim… This is the place where all the si…
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
Ah me! I shall not waken soon From dreams of such divinity! A spirit singing 'neath the moon To me. Wild sea-spray driven of the storm