#AmericanWriters
The mornings raise Voices of gold in the Almighty’s… The sunsets soar In choral crimson from far shore t… Each is a blast,
Again, in dreams, the veteran hear… The bugle and the drum; Again the boom of battle nears, Again the bullets hum: Again he mounts, again he cheers,
There are three things of Earth That help us more Than those of heavenly birth That all implore Than Love or Faith or Hope,
THERE is no rhyme that is half s… As the song of the wind in the rip… There is no metre that ’s half so… As the lilt of the brook under roc… And the loveliest lyric I ever he…
Weeds and dead leaves, and leaves… With hues of rust and rose whence… Gnarl’d thorns, from which the kno… On paths the gray moss heaps. One golden flower, like a dreamy t…
Sad-Hearted spirit of the solitud… Who comest through the ruin-wedded… Gray-gowned with fog, gold-girdled… Of tawny twilights; burdened with… Of rain-wet uplands, chilly with t…
What sighed the Forest to the nes… ‘So young, so old, Love, Help me to mold This life I hold.’
Here went a horse with heavy labor… Along the woodland side; Deep in the clay his iron hoof-mar… Patient and slow, Where with his human burden yester…
They mock the present and they hau… And in the future there is naught… With hope, the soul desires, that… The heart pursuing does not find a…
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
Into the sunset’s turquoise marge The moon dips, like a pearly barge Enchantment sails through magic se… To faeryland Hesperides, Over the hills and away.
Don’t know what to do to-day. Got so many things to do I can’t do them. Want to play, But my toys are all too new I don’t like to play with them:
These-the bright symbols of man’s… In which he reads his blessing or… Are syllables with which God spea… In the vast utterance of the unive…
They who take courage from their o… Are victors too, no matter how muc…
Sodden and shivering, in mud and r… Half in the light that serves but… The blackness of an alley and the… Homeward of wretchedness in tatter… A boy stands crouched; big drops o…