#AmericanWriters
A Song in Chinese Tapestries<… “How, how,” he said. “Friend Chan… “San Francisco sleeps as the dead… Ended license, lust and play: Why do you iron the night away?
An old actor at the Player’s Club told me that Edwin Booth first impersonated Hamlet when a barnstormer in California. There were few theatres, but the hotels were provided with crude a...
The North Star whispers: “You ar… Of those whose course no chance ca… You blunder, but are not undone, Your spirit-task is fixed and stra… ”When here you walk, a bloodless s…
The wide Pacific waters And the Atlantic meet. With cries of joy they mingle, In tides of love they greet. Above the drowned ages
Where a river roars in rapids And doves in maples fret, Where peace has decked the pasture… Our guardian angels met. Long they had sought each other
O dandelion, rich and haughty, King of village flowers! Each day is coronation time, You have no humble hours. I like to see you bring a troop
A chant to which it is intended a… A master deep-eyed Ere his manhood was ripe, He sang like a thrush, He could play any pipe.
MOVING-PICTURE ACTRESS (On hearing she was leaving the… Mary Pickford, doll divine, Year by year, and every day At the movmg-picture play,
Oh, once I walked a garden In dreams. ’Twas yellow grass. And many orange-trees grew there In sand as white as glass. The curving, wide wall-border
(To Edgar Lee Masters, with g… Here upon the prarie Is our ancestral hall. Agate is the dome, Cornelian the wall.
‘There’s machinery in the butterfl… There’s a mainspring to the bee; There’s hydraulics to a daisy, And contraptions to a tree. ‘If we could see the birdie
[Concerning Edgar Allan Poe]<… Who now will praise the Wizard in… With loyal songs, with humors grav… This Jingle-man, of strolling pla… Whom holy folk have hurried by in…
O you who lose the art of hope, Whose temples seem to shrine a lie… Whose sidewalks are but stones of… Who weep that Liberty must die, Turn to the little prairie towns,
Though better men may fear that tr… I meet you, lady, on the Judgment… With golden hope my spirit still a… Our God who made you all so fair… Is three times gentle, and before…
(To Eudora, after I had had ce… When Dragon-fly would fix his win… When Snail would patch his house, When moths have marred the overcoa… Of tender Mister Mouse,