#EnglishWriters
April, half-clad in flowers and sh… Walks, like a blossom, o’er the la… She smiles at May, and laughing t… The rain and sunshine hand in hand… So gay the dancing of her feet,
Canst thou be true across so many… So many days that keep us still ap… Ah, canst thou live upon remembere… And ask no warmer comfort for thy… I call thy name right up into the…
You must mean more than just this… You perfect thing so subtly fair, Simple and complex as a flower, Wrought with such planetary care; How patient the eternal power
Little chipmunk, do you know All you mean to me?— She and I and Long Ago, And you there in the tree; With that nut between your paws,
Dear city in the moonlight dreamin… How changed and lovely is your fac… Where is the sordid busy scheming That filled all day the market-pla… Was it but fancy that a rabble
(TO JAMES WELCH) Dear Desk, Farewell! I spoke you… In phrases neither sweet nor soft, But at the end I come to see That thou a friend hast been to me…
This is all that is left—this lett… And do you, poor dreaming things,… That your little fire shall burn f… And this great fire be, all but th… Flower! of course she is—but is sh…
‘Yes, Sir, she’s gone at last-'tw… We heard her sigh from her corner,… We were all just busy on breakfast… Had just gone into the larder-but… Right up in the garret, sir, for i…
What shall I sing when all is sun… And every tale is told, And in the world is nothing young That was not long since old? Why should I fret unwilling ears
Poet, whose words are like the tig… Sealed in the capsule of a silver… Still at your art we wonder as we… The art dynamic charging each word… Seeds of the silver flower of Eme…
In vain with whip and knotted cord The hirelings of hypocrisy Would make us comely for the Lord… Think ye God works through such a… Paid Puritan, plump Pharisee,
Singing go I, seeking for ever a… Sung long ago; I ask no more to h… Her voice that sang-for I should… Had I the power, to bring her onc… Near to the earth, its sorrow or i…
(Obiit Nov. 18, 1909) America grows poorer day by day– Richer and richer, I have heard s… They thought of a poor wealth I d… For, one by one, the men who dream…
(TO THE OMAR KHAYYAM CLU Great Omar, here to-night we drai… Unto thy long-since transmigrated… Ours all unworthy in thy place to… Ours still to read in life’s encha…
My eye upon your eyes— So was I born, One far-off day in Paradise, A summer morn; I had not lived till then,