#AmericanWriters
I leave you, ye cold mountain chai… Dwelling of warriors stark and fro… You, may these eyes behold no more… Rave on the horizon of our plains. Vanish, ye frightful, gloomy views…
Where are the Poets, unto whom be… The Olympian heights; whose singi… Straight to the mark, and not from… But with the utmost tension of the… Where are the stately argosies of…
Steer, bold mariner, on! albeit wi… And the steersman drop idly his ha… Ever, ever to westward! There mus… If it but lie distinct, luminous l… Trust to the God that leads thee,…
If thou art sleeping, maiden, Awake, and open thy door: 'Tis the break of day, and we must… O’er meadow, and mount, and moor. Wait not to find thy slippers,
The Landlord ended thus his tale, Then rising took down from its nai… The sword that hung there, dim wit… And cleaving to its sheath with ru… And said, ‘This sword was in the…
In broad daylight, and at noon, Yesterday I saw the moon Sailing high, but faint and white, As a schoolboy’s paper kite. In broad daylight, yesterday,
Allah gives light in darkness, Allah gives rest in pain, Cheeks that are white with weeping Allah paints red again. The flowers and the blossoms withe…
Never stoops the soaring vulture On his quarry in the desert, On the sick or wounded bison, But another vulture, watching From his high aerial look-out,
PLEASANTLY rose next morn the… Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sw… Where the ships, with their waveri… Life had long been astir in the vi… Knocked with its hundred hands at…
The night is come, but not too soo… And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. There is no light in earth or heav…
A handful of red sand, from the ho… Of Arab deserts brought, Within this glass becomes the spy… The minister of Thought. How many weary centuries has it be…
A little bird in the air Is singing of Thyri the fair, The sister of Svend the Dane; And the song of the garrulous bird In the streets of the town is hear…
One summer morning, when the sun w… Weary with labor in his garden-plo… On a rude bench beneath his cottag… Ser Federigo sat among the leaves Of a huge vine, that, with its arm…
When I compare What I have lost with what I have… What I have missed with what atta… Little room do I find for pride. I am aware
Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to low… Comes a pause in the day’s occupat… That is known as the Children’s H… I hear in the chamber above me