#Americans
Written for the Art Autograph dur… Heartsome Ireland, winsome Irelan… Charmer of the sun and sea, Bright beguiler of old anguish, How could Famine frown on thee?
A rose of perfect red, embossed With silver sheens of crystal fros… Yet warm, nor life nor fragrance l… High passion throbbing in a sphere That Art hath wrought of diamond…
Out of the hills of Habersham, Down the valleys of Hall, I hurry amain to reach the plain, Run the rapid and leap the fall, Split at the rock and together aga…
I was drivin’ my two-mule waggin, With a lot o’ truck for sale, Towards Macon, to git some baggin… (Which my cotton was ready to bale… And I come to a place on the side…
Hey, rose, just born Twin to a thorn; Was’t so with you, O Love and Sc… Sweet eyes that smiled, Now wet and wild:
Died of a cat, May, 1878. Trillets of humor,—shrewdest whist… Contralto cadences of grave desire Such as from off the passionate I… Drift down through sandal-odored f…
Life swelleth in a whitening wave, And dasheth thee and me apart. I sweep out seaward:— be thou brav… And reach the shore, Sweetheart. Beat back the backward-thrusting s…
[Not long ago a certain Georgia c… by awaking each morning to find th… quite outgrown the cotton overnigh… in defiance of his lazy freedmen’s… set the whole State in a laugh by…
I.—Red. Would that my songs might be What roses make by day and night— Distillments of my clod of misery Into delight.
By the Eldest Grandson. A rainbow span of fifty years, Painted upon a cloud of tears, In blue for hopes and red for fear… Finds end in a golden hour to-day.
For ever wave, for ever float and… Before my yearning eyes, oh! dream… Wherein I dreamed that time was l… A creeping rose, that clomb a heig… Out of the sea of Birth, all fill…
Look off, dear Love, across the s… And mark yon meeting of the sun an… How long they kiss in sight of all… Ah! longer, longer, we. Now in the sea’s red vintage melts…
To-day the woods are trembling thr… With shimmering forms, that flash… Then melt in green as dawn-stars m… The leaves that wave against my ch… Like women’s hands; the embracing…
If haply thou, O Desdemona Morn, Shouldst call along the curving sp… Dear Night, sweet Moor; nay, leav… With soft halloos of heavenly love… Shouldst thou, O Spring! a-cower…
