#AmericanWriters
Have I dreamed? or was it real, What I saw as in a vision, When to marches hymeneal In the land of the Ideal Moved my thought o’er Fields Elys…
Often I think of the beautiful to… That is seated by the sea; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear… And my youth comes back to me.
No sound of wheels or hoof—beat br… The silence of the summer day, As by the loveliest of all lakes I while the idle hours away. I pace the leafy colonnade,
A vision as of crowded city street… With human life in endless overflo… Thunder of thoroughfares; trumpets… To battle; clamor, in obscure retr… Of sailors landed from their ancho…
Sweet chimes! that in the loneline… Salute the passing hour, and in th… And silent chambers of the househo… The movements of the myriad orbs o… Through my closed eyelids, by the…
The hour was late; the fire burned… The Landlord’s eyes were closed i… And near the story’s end a deep, Sonorous sound at times was heard, As when the distant bagpipes blow.
Come to me, O ye children! For I hear you at your play, And the questions that perplexed m… Have vanished quite away. Ye open the eastern windows,
‘Now that is after my own heart,’ The Poet cried; 'one understands Your swarthy hero Scanderbeg, Gauntlet on hand and boot on leg, And skilled in every warlike art,
‘All the old gods are dead, All the wild warlocks fled; But the White Christ lives and re… And throughout my wide domains His Gospel shall be spread!’
The old house by the lindens Stood silent in the shade, And on the gravelled pathway The light and shadow played. I saw the nursery windows
How much of my young heart, O Spa… Went out to thee in days of yore! What dreams romantic filled my bra… And summoned back to life again The Paladins of Charlemagne,
At the foot of the mountain height Where is perched Castel Cuille, When the apple, the plum, and the… In the plain below were growing wh… This is the song one might perceiv…
Should you ask me, whence these stories? Whence these legends and tradition… With the odors of the forest With the dew and damp of meadows,
“As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman; Though she bends him, she obeys hi… Though she draws him, yet she foll… Useless each without the other!”
Laugh of the mountain!—lyre of bir… Pomp of the meadow! mirror of the… The soul of April, unto whom are… The rose and jessamine, leaps wild… Although, where’er thy devious cur…