#AmericanWriters
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,
On southern winds shot through wit… Breathing soft balm and clothed in… The lily-fingered Spring came o’e… Waking the crocus and the daffodil… O’er the cold Earth she breathed…
Geraldine, Geraldine, Do you remember where The willows used to screen The water flowing fair? The mill-stream’s banks of green
The west builds high a sepulcher Of cloudy granite and of gold, Where twilight’s priestly hours in… The Day like some great king of o… A censer, rimmed with silver fire,
When dusk falls cool as a rained-o… And a tawny tower the twilight sho… With the crescent moon, the silver… A turret window that grows a-light… There is a path that my Fancy kno…
It’s a long, long way to the count… I wade and splash in the creek; And a long, long way to the Fernc… The Fair where I was last week: It’s a long, long way to the end o…
O Dark-Eyed goddess of the marble… Whose look is silence and whose to… Who walkest lonely through the wor… Who sittest lonely with Life’s bl… Who in the hollow hours of night’s…
There it lies broken, as a shard, What breathed sweet music yesterda… The source, all mute, has passed a… With its masked meanings still unm… But melody will never cease!
Clouds of the autumn night, Under the hunter’s moon, Ghostly and windy white, Whither, like leaves wild strewn, Take ye your stormy flight?
Were I an artist, Lydia, I Would paint you as you merit, Not as my eyes, but dreams, descry… Not in the flesh, but spirit. The canvas I would paint you on
A grey, bald hillside, bristling h… With leprous-looking grass, that,… Slopes to a valley where a wild st… And every bush seems tortured to d… And shows its teeth of thorns as i…
The drowsy day, with half-closed e… Dreams in this quaint forgotten st… That, like some old-world wreckage… Left by the sea’s receding beat, Far from the city’s restless feet.
Blood-Coloured oaks, that stand a… Gaunt slopes, on which the bleak l… And broom-sedge strips of smoky-pi… In which, beneath the ragged sky,… From West to East, from wood to w…
Old days, old ways, old homes besi… Old gardens with old-fashioned flo… Poppy, petunia, and many a name Of many a flower of fragrant pedig… Old hills that glow with blue- and…
All night I lay upon the rocks: And now the dawn comes up this way… One great star trembling in her lo… Of rosy ray. I can not tell the things I’ve se…