#AmericanWriters
THE moon, a circle of gold, O’er the crowded housetops rolled, And peeped in an attic, where, ‘Mid sordid things and bare, A sick child lay and gazed
There are moments when, as mission… God reveals to us strange visions; When, within their separate statio… We may see the Centuries, Like revolving constellations
What words of mine can tell the sp… Of garden ways I know so well?- The path that takes me in the spri… Past quince-trees where the bluebi… And peonies are blossoming,
The memory of what we’ve lost Is with us more than what we’ve wo… Perhaps because we count the cost By what we could, yet have not don… ‘Twixt act and purpose fate hath d…
And these are Christians! God! th… How long, O Lord! how long, O Lo… Wilt Thou endure this crime? and… Look down on Earth nor sweep away… Are these Thy teachings? Where is…
White moons may come, white moons… She sleeps where early blossoms bl… Knows nothing of the leafy June, That leans above her night and noo… Crowned now with sunbeam, now with…
When I behold how some pursue Fame, that is Care’s embodiment Or fortune, whose false face looks… An humble home with sweet content Is all I ask for me and you.
From morn till noon upon the windo… The tempest tapped with rainy fing… And all the afternoon the blusteri… Beat at the door with furious feet… The rose, near which the lily bloo…
COME, let’s climb into our attic… In our house that’s old and gray! Life, you’re old and I’m rheumati… And—it’s close of day. Lay aside your rags and tatters,
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,
THIS world is made a witchcraft… With gazing on a woman’s face. Now ’tis her smile, whose sorcery Turns all my thoughts to melody. Now ’tis her frown, that comes and…
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…
The shadows sit and stand about it… Like uninvited guests and poor; And all the long, hot summer day The grating locust dins its rounde… In one old sycamore.
What sighed the Forest to the nes… ‘So young, so old, Love, Help me to mold This life I hold.’
On nights like this, when bayou an… Dream in the moonlight’s mystic ra… I seem to walk like one deep in a… With old-world myths born of the m… Lascivious eyes and mouths of sens…