#AmericanWriters
Mortal mixed of middle clay, Attempered to the night and day, Interchangeable with things, Needs no amulets nor rings. Guy possessed the talisman
WHEN the pine tosses its cones To the song of its waterfall tones… Who speeds to the woodland walks? To birds and trees who talks? Cæsar of his leafy Rome,
Space is ample, east and west, But two cannot go abreast, Cannot travel in it two: Yonder masterful cuckoo Crowds every egg out of the nest,
Guard well your spare moments. Th…
That you are fair or wise is vain, Or strong, or rich, or generous; You must have also the untaught st… That sheds beauty on the rose. There is a melody born of melody,
Was never form and never face So sweet to SEYD as only grace Which did not slumber like a stone… But hovered gleaming and was gone. Beauty chased he everywhere,
If the red slayer think he slays, Or if the slain think he is slain, They know not well the subtle ways I keep, and pass, and turn again. Far or forgot to me is near;
How much, preventing God! how muc… To the defenses thou hast round me… Example, custom, fear, occasional… These scorned bondmen were my para… I dare not peep over this parapet
Low and mournful be the strain, Haughty thought be far from me; Tones of penitence and pain, Moanings of the tropic sea; Low and tender in the cell
At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay… On board of the Cumberland, sloop… And at times from the fortress acr… The alarum of drums swept past, Or a bugle blast
Roving, roving, as it seems, Una lights my clouded dreams; Still for journeys she is dressed; We wander far by east and west. In the homestead, homely thought;
IT fell in the ancient periods Which the brooding soul surveys, Or ever the wild Time coin’d itse… Into calendar months and days. This was the lapse of Uriel,
It is remarkable, that our people have their intellectual culture from one country, and their duties from another. This false state of things is newly in a way to be corrected. America ...
“May be true what I had heard, Earth’s a howling wilderness Truculent with fraud and force,” Said I, strolling through the pas… And along the riverside.
Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, Repeats the music of the rain; But sweeter rivers pulsing flit Through thee, as thou through the… Thou in thy narrow banks art pent: