#AmericanWriters
Here in my office I sit and write Hour on hour, and day on day, With no one to speak to from morn… Though I have a neighbour just ov… Across the alley that yawns betwee…
As we journey along, with a laugh… We see, on youth’s flower-decked s… Like a beacon of light, shining fa… The beautiful Station of Hope. But the wheels of old Time roll a…
Nay, nay, Antonio! nay, thou shal… My Gracia, who hath so deserted m… Thou art my friend, but if thou do… I shall not hesitate to challenge… ‘Curse and forget her?’ So I migh…
We two were lovers, the Sea and I… We plighted our troth ‘neath a sum… And all through the riotous, arden… We dreamed, and loved, and rejoice… At times my lover would rage and s…
Sitting to-day in the sunshine, That touched me with fingers of lo… I thought of the manifold blessing… God scatters on earth, from above; And they seemed, as I numbered th…
To Miss Eva Russell. The spring time is deaf to our ple… The meadows are brown as can be. The hilltops are bleak and unlovel… No thrush sits and sings on the tr…
In the midnight of darkness and te… When I would grope nearer to God, With my back to a record of error And the highway of sin I have tro… There comes to me shapes I would…
Here is a lock of his soft, dark h… And here are the letters he wrote… And the ring of gold that I used… Is here in the casket-see! I put them away ten years ago.
Some day, when the golden glory Of June is over the earth, And the birds are singing together In a wild, mad strain of mirth; When the skies are as clear and cl…
Somebody said, in the crowd, last… That you were married, or soon to… I have not thought of you, I beli… Since last we parted. Let me see… Five long Summers have passed sin…
The sun rode high in a cloudless s… Of a perfect summer morn. She stood and gazed out into the s… And wondered why she was born. On the topmost branch of a maple-t…
I saw the farmer, when the day was… And the proud sun had sought his c… And the mild stars came forward on… I saw the sturdy farmer, and I sa… ‘What have you done to-day,
‘He that hath an ear, let him hear… St. John the Divine. The Spirit says unto the churches… ‘Ere ever the churches began I lived in the centre of Being–
With care, and skill, and cunning… She parried Time’s malicious dart… And kept the years at bay, Till passion entered in her heart And aged her in a day!
I think I hear the sound of horse… Beating upon the graveled avenue. Go to the window that looks on the… He would not let me die alone, I… Back to the couch the patient watc…