#AmericanWriters #Epigram
What phantom is this that appears Through the purple mist of the yea… Itself but a mist like these? A woman of cloud and of fire; It is she; it is Helen of Tyre,
My soul its secret hath, my life t… A love eternal in a moment’s space… Hopeless the evil is, I have not… And she who was the cause nor knew… Alas! I shall have passed close b…
Safe at anchor in Drontheim bay King Olaf’s fleet assembled lay, And, striped with white and blue, Downward fluttered sail and banner… As alights the screaming lanner;
Into the city of Kambalu, By the road that leadeth to Ispah… At the head of his dusty caravan, Laden with treasure from realms af… Baldacca and Kelat and Kandahar,
It was Sir Christopher Gardiner, Knight of the Holy Sepulchre, From Merry England over the sea, Who stepped upon this continent As if his august presence lent
Ojibwa The owl,— Au The owl Au
Oft I remember those I have known In other days, to whom my heart wa… As by a magnet, and who are not de… But absent, and their memories ove… With other thoughts and troubles o…
This is the Arsenal. From floor t… Like a huge organ, rise the burnis… But from their silent pipes no ant… Startles the villages with strange… Ah! what a sound will rise, how wi…
Lo! in the paintedoriel of the We… Whose panes the sunken sun incarna… Like a fair lady at her casement,… The evening star, the star of love… And then anon she doth herself div…
On the green little isle of Inchk… Who is it that walks by the shore, So gay with his Highland blue bon… So brave with his targe and claymo… His form is the form of a giant,
Nine sisters, beautiful in form an… Came from their convent on the shi… Of Pierus, the mountain of deligh… To dwell among the people at its b… Then seemed the world to change.…
On the cross the dying Saviour Heavenward lifts his eyelids calm, Feels, but scarcely feels, a tremb… In his pierced and bleeding palm. And by all the world forsaken,
What say the Bells of San Blas To the ships that southward pass From the harbor of Mazatlan? To them it is nothing more Than the sound of surf on the shor…
I heard the trailing garments of t… Sweep through her marble halls! I saw her sable skirts all fringed… From the celestial walls! I felt her presence, by its spell…
Oh that a Song would sing itself… Out of the heart of Nature, or th… Of man, the child of Nature, not… Fresh as the morning, salt as the… With just enough of bitterness to…
