#AmericanWriters
Those hewers of the clouds, the W… At the four compass-points,-are ou… I hear their sandals trample on th… I hear their voices trumpet throug… Builders of storm, God’s workmen,…
A sense of sadness in the golden a… A pensiveness, that has no part in… As if the Season, by some woodlan… Braiding the early blossoms in her… Seeing her loveliness reflected th…
First of the insect choir, in the… We hear his faint voice fluttering… Beneath some blossom’s rosy coveri… Or frond of fern upon a wildwood p… When in the marsh, in clamorous or…
Masks Death rides black-masked to-night;… Madness beside him brandishes a to… The peaceful farmhouse with its vi… Lies in their way. Death lifts a…
The teasel and the horsemint sprea… The hillside as with sunset, sown With blossoms, o’er the Standing-… That ripples in its rocky bed: There are no treasuries that hold
Passion? not hers! who held me wit… One hand among the deep curls of h… I drank the girlhood of her gaze w… She never sighed, nor gave me kiss… So have I seen a clear October po…
I saw the daughters of the ocean d… With wind and tide, and heard them… White hands they waved me, tossing… Green as the light an emerald hold… Their music bound me as with necro…
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…
Universes are the pages Of that book whose words are ages; Of that book which destiny Opens in eternity. There each syllable expresses
Here is a tale for proper men and… There was a woman once who had a d… A fair-faced wench, as stable as i… And frailer than the first spring… She did not need to work, but then…
There in the past I see her as of… Blue-eyed and hazel-haired, within… Dim with a twilight of tenebrious… Her white face sensuous as a delic… Night opens in the tropics. Fold…
Pale faces looked up at me, up fro… Pale hands reached down to me, out… As over the hills, robed on with t… The Day’s last Hours, departed, a… Pale fingers beckoned me on; pale…
Here’s the tale my father told, Walking in the park one night, When the stars shone big and brigh… And the autumn wind blew cold: Once a giant lived of old
Why have you come? to see me in my… A thing to spit on, to despise and… And then to ask me! You, by whom… And then cast by, like some vile r… What shelter could you give me, no…
Dark in the west the sunset’s somb… Unrolled vast walls the rams of wa… Along whose battlements the battle… Tempestuous beacons; and, with gat… A mighty city, red with ruin and s…