#AmericanWriters
Once a charcoal wagon passed, And an old black charcoalman, ‘Blacker than a midnight blast,’ Mother said. And he began Crying, ‘Charcoal! charcoal!
At the moon’s down-going let it be On the quarry hill with its one gn… The red-rock road of the underbrus… Where the woman came through the s… The sumac high and the elder thick…
Crab-Faced, crab-tongued, with de… Unfriendly and unfriended lived th… Upon the common in her hut, alone, Past which but seldom any villager… Some said she was a witch and rode…
Well, what of it then, if your hea… Of the world’s neglect? and the sm… Of doubt, blown into your eyes, ma… And the sting of the goad, The merciless goad of scorn,
And the boy that lives next door Said to me one day, There’s more In those rhymes of Mother Goose And those tales, I don’t care who… Arabian Nights or Grimm’s, or, we…
Once when it had rained all night And all day, the next day, why, In our yard, a lot of white, Dumpy toadstools grew close by Our old peach tree: some were high…
Do you know the way that goes Over fields of rue and rose, Warm of scent and hot of hue, Roofed with heaven’s bluest blue, To the Vale of Dreams Come True?
Be of good cheer, and have no fear Of Fortune or Tomorrow: To Hope’s low whisper lend an ear And turn away from Sorrow. Time out of mind the soul is blind
The moth and beetle wing about The garden ways of other days; Above the hills, a fiery shout Of gold, the day dies slowly out, Like some wild blast a huntsman bl…
How shall it be with them that day When God demands of Earth His pa… With them who make a god of clay And gold and put all truth away. Shall not they see the lightning-r…
Booted and spurred he rode toward… A rose, from the woman who loved h… Lay warm with her kisses there in… And the battle beacons were burnin… As over the draw he galloping went…
Christmas Eve is here at last. And I’m happy as can be. Going to have a Christmas-tree, And more toys than any past Christmas saw or ever had,
I had not found the road too short… As once I had in days of youth, In that old forest of long ruth, Where my young knighthood broke it… Ere love and it had come to part,
The tufted gold of the sassafras, And the gold of the spicewood-bush… Bewilder the ways of the forest pa… And brighten the underbrush: The white-starred drifts of the wi…
What though the heart be tired, The heart, that long aspired, And one high dream desired, Beyond attainment’s scope; Beyond our grasp; above us;