#AmericanWriters
The burden of the sometime years, That once my soul did overweigh, Falls from me, with its griefs and… When gazing in thine eyes of gray; Wherein, behold, like some bright…
The pink rose drops its petals on The moonlit lawn, the moonlit lawn… The moon, like some wide rose of w… Drops down the summer night. No rose there is
The Moonshiner He leans far out and watches: Dow… The road seems but a ribbon throug… The bluff, from which he gazes, wh… Some ox-team or some horseman come…
I remember, when a child, How within the April wild Once I walked with Mystery In the groves of Arcady…. Through the boughs, before, behind…
I took the road again last night On which my boyhood’s hills look d… The old road leading from the town… The village there below the height… Its cottage homes, all huddled bro…
Roses, brier on brier, Like a hedge of fire, Walled it from the world and rolle… Crimson ‘round it; manifold Blossoms, ’mid which once of old
I saw the spirit of the pines that… With spirits of the ocean and the… Against the tumult rose its tatter… Wild rain and darkness round it li… Fearful it stood, limbed like some…
‘Teach me the wisdom of thy beauty… That, being thus wise, I may aspi… What beauty is, whence, why, and i… Immortal, yet how mortal utterly: For, shrinking loveliness, thy bro…
My soul goes out to her who says, ‘Come, follow me and cast off care… Then tosses back her sun-bright ha… And like a flower before me sways Between the green leaves and my ga…
I do not love you now, O narrow heart, that had no height… You, whom mine fed; to whom yours… Food when mine hungered, and of wh… I do not love you now.
Bee-Bitten in the orchard hung The peach; or, fallen in the weeds… Lay rotting, where still sucked an… The gray bee, boring to its seed’s Pink pulp and honey blackly stung.
One with the Heaven above Am I its bliss: Part of its truth and love, And what God is. I heal the soul and mind:
Squaw-Berry, bramble, Solomon’s-s… And rattlesnake-weed make wild the… You seem to feel that a Faun will… Or leap before your face. . . . Is that the reel of a Satyr’s hee…
Here is a tale for gossips and cha… There lived a woman once, a straig… Whose only love was slander. Noth… Escaped her vulture eye. Like som… Her course of life pointed to Hea…
Thou, oh, thou! Thou of the chorded shell and gold… Of the dark eyes and pale pacific… Music, who by the plangent waves, Or in the echoing night of labyrin…