#AmericanWriters
A disc of violet blue, Rimmed with a thorn of fire, The new moon hangs in a sky of dew… And under the vines, where the sun… Is blent with blossoms, first one,…
Onward he gallops through enchante… The spectres of the forest, dark a… And shadows of vast death environ… Onward he spurs victorious over do… Before his eyes that love’s far fi…
White from her chrysalis of cloud, The moth-like moon swings upward t… And all the bee-like stars that cr… The hollow hive of heav’n wane in… Along the distance, folds of mist
Pale as a star that shines through… Her face was seen at the window-pa… Her sad, frail face that watched i… The face of a girl whose brow was… To whom the kind sun spoke at dawn…
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…
Hey, little boy, little boy, come… Hey, little boy, little boy, Andy… Hey, little boy, little boy, can i… Your mouth is crumbed with candy?’ ‘What’s that to you? what’s that t…
Who knows the things they dream, a… Or feel, who lie beneath the groun… Perhaps the flowers, the leaves, a… That close them round. In spring the violets may spell
In some glad way I know thereof: A garden glows down in my heart, Wherein I meet and often part With many an ancient tale of love A Romeo garden, banked with bloom…
Yes, I love the homestead. There In the spring the lilacs blew Plenteous perfume everywhere; There in summer gladioles grew Parallels of scarlet glare.
The barberry burns, the rose-hip c… And haw and sumach hedge the hill… Down which the road winds, worn of… Only the blueberry-picker plods no… Here once the quarry-driver, brown…
Love one day, in childish anger, Tired of his divinity, Sick of rapture, sick of languor, Threw his arrows in the sea. Since then Ocean, like a woman,
To Friendship drink, and then to… And last to Loyalty! The first of these were not enough Without the last, through whom we… That Love is Love, and right enou…
She sleeps; he sings to her. The… And, tired out with too much happi… She fain would have him sing of ol… Quaint songs, that spoke of love i… Her restless soul was straight bes…
Summer, gowned in catnip-gray, Goes her weedy wildwood way, Where with rosehip-buttoned coat, Cardinal flower-plume afloat, With the squirrel-folk at play,
White art thou, O Lilith! as the… Glitters and clingingly silvers an… Of the beautiful breasts of the ny… That crystal and pearl by clusters… Forests of tenebrous palm.
