#AmericanWriters
Of our own will we are not free, When freedom lies within our power… We wait for some decisive hour, To rise and take our liberty. Still we delay, content to be
The fire burns bright And the hearth is clean swept, As she likes it kept, And the lamp is alight. She is coming to-night.
Two old St. Andrews men, after a separation of nearly thirty years, meet by chance at a wayside inn. They interchange experiences; and at length one of them, who is an admirer of Mr. Sw...
Lost at sea, with all on board! No one saw their sinking sail, No one heard their dying wail, Heard them calling on the Lord— Lost at sea, with all on board.
For thee the birds shall never sin… Nor fresh green leaves come out up… The brook shall no more murmur the… For thee. Thou liest underneath the windswep…
When we have laid aside our last e… And said farewell to one or two th… And issued from the house of life… To find a lodging in the house of… With eyes fast shut, in sunless ch…
Would you like to see a city given… Soul and body, to a tyrannising ga… If you would, there’s little need… For St. Andrews is the abject cit… It is surely quite superfluous to…
Last night, when at parting Awhile we did stand, Suddenly starting, There fell on my hand Something that burned it,
After Longfellow Loud he sang the song Ta Phershon For his personal diversion, Sang the chorus U-pi-dee, Sang about the Barley Bree.
You found my life, a poor lame bir… That had no heart to sing, You would not speak the magic word To give it voice and wing. Yet sometimes, dreaming of that ho…
How many the troubles that wait On mortals!—especially those Who endeavour in eloquent prose To expound their views, and orate. Did you ever attempt to speak
Love, when the present is become t… And dust has covered all that now… When many a fame has faded out of… And many a later fame is fading fa… If then these songs of mine might…
You like the trifling triolet: Well, here are three or four. Unless your likings I forget, You like the trifling triolet. Against my conscience I abet
Where she sleeps, no moonlight shi… No pale beam unbidden creeps. Darkest shade the place enshrines Where she sleeps. Like a diamond in the deeps
There was a time when in your face There dwelt such power, and in you… I know not what of magic grace; They held me captive for a while. Ah, then I listened for your voic…