#Americans
A white face, drooping, on a bendi… A tube-rose that with heavy petal… Her stem: a foam-bell on a wave t… Back from the undulating vessel’s… From out the whitest cloud of summ…
Through all that year-scarred agon… Unblest of bough or bloom, to wher… His wandy circlet with his bladed… Dividing every wind, or loud or li… To termless hymns of love and old…
Down mildest shores of milk-white… By cape and fair Floridian bay, Twixt billowy pines—a surf asleep… And the great Gulf at play, Past far-off palms that filmed to…
My soul is sailing through the sea… But the Past is heavy and hindere… The Past hath crusted cumbrous sh… That hold the flesh of cold sea-me… About my soul.
As Love will carve dear names upo… Symbol of gravure on his heart to… So thought I thine with loving te… In the growth and substance of my… But, writing it, my tears begin to…
To range, deep-wrapt, along a heav… O’erseeing all that man but unders… To loiter down lone alleys of deli… And hear the beating of the hearts… And think the thoughts that lilies…
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.
‘If life were caught by a clarione… And a wild heart, throbbing in the… Should thrill its joy and trill it… And utter its heart in every deed, ’Then would this breathing clarion…
Als du im Saal mit deiner himmlis… Beethoven zeigst, und seinem Will… Mit den zehn Fingern fuehrst der… Zehn Zungen sagen was der Meister… Schauend dich an, ich seh’, dass n…
The innocent, sweet Day is dead. Dark Night hath slain her in her… O, Moors are as fierce to kill as… —Put out the light, said he. A sweeter light than ever rayed
Young palmer sun, that to these sh… Pourest thy pilgrim’s tale, discou… Thy silver passages of sacred land… With news of Sepulchre and Doloro… Canst thou be he that, yester-suns…
“O Trade! O Trade! would thou we… The Time needs heart—’tis tired o… We’re all for love,” the violins s… “Of what avail the rigorous tale Of bill for coin and box for bale?
From cold Norse caves or buccanee… Oft come repenting tempests here t… Bewailing old-time wrecks and robb… They shrive to priestly pines with… Breathe salutary balms through lan…
Sail on, sail on, fair cousin Clo… Oh loiter hither from the sea. Still-eyed and shadow-brow’d, Steal off from yon far-drifting cr… And come and brood upon the marsh…
That air same Jones, which lived… He had this pint about him: He’d swear with a hundred sighs an… That farmers MUST stop gittin’ l… And git along without 'em: