#AmericanWriters
The dawn is a warp of fever, The eve is a woof of fire; And the month is a singing weaver Weaving a red desire. With stars Dawn dices with Even
When the hornet hangs in the holly… And the brown bee drones i’ the ro… And the west is a red-streaked fou… And summer is near its close– It’s oh, for the gate and the locu…
Rain and wind and candlelight And let us pray a prayer to-night: For every soul, since life is brie… Little of trouble and less of grie… And set a light at the windowpane,
See how the rose leaves fall The rose leaves fall and fade: And by the wall, in dusk funereal, How leaf on leaf is laid, Withered and soiled and frayed.
High in the place of outraged libe… He ruled the world, an emperor and… His iron armies swept the land and… And conquered nations trembled at… By him the love that fills man’s s…
What would it mean for you and me If dawn should come no more! Think of its gold along the sea, Its rose above the shore! That rose of awful mystery,
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,
It’s out and away at break of day, To frolic and run in the sun-sweet… It’s up and out with a laugh and s… Let the old world know that a boy’… It’s ho for the creek that the min…
This is the tomboy month of all th… March, who comes shouting o’er the… Waking the world with laughter, as… Or wild halloos, a windflower in h… She stops a moment by the half-tha…
Bird, with the voice of gold, Dropping wild bar on bar, To which the flowers unfold, Star upon gleaming star, Here in the forest old:
Beneath an old beech-tree They sat together, Fair as a flower was she Of summer weather. They spoke of life and love,
Old phantoms haunt it of the long… Old ghosts of old-time lovers and… Within the quiet sunlight there, m… I see them walking where those lil… The hardy phlox sways to some garm…
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…
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…
How fancy romped and played here, Building this house of moss! A faery house, the shade here And sunlight gleam across; And how it danced and swayed here,