#AmericanWriters
Queen Sigrid the Haughty sat prou… In her chamber, that looked over m… Heart’s dearest, Why dost thou sorrow so? The floor with tassels of fir was…
It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old. Birds are darting through the air,
No hay pajaros en los nidos de ant… Spanish Proverb The sun is bright,—the air is clea… The darting swallows soar and sing… And from the stately elms I hear
Where, from the eye of day, The dark and silent river Pursues through tangled woods a wa… O’er which the tall trees quiver; The silver mist, that breaks
When the summer fields are mown, When the birds are fledged and flo… And the dry leaves strew the path; With the falling of the snow, With the cawing of the crow,
There was a time when I was very… When my whole frame was but an ell… Sweetly, as I recall it, tears do… And therefore I recall it with de… I sported in my tender mother’s ar…
Saint Augustine! well hast thou s… That of our vices we can frame A ladder, if we will but tread Beneath our feet each deed of sham… All common things, each day’s even…
Not without fire can any workman m… The iron to his preconceived desig… Nor can the artist without fire re… And purify from all its dross the… Nor can revive the phoenix, we are…
How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain!
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
Of Prometheus, how undaunted On Olympus’ shining bastions His audacious foot he planted, Myths are told and songs are chant… Full of promptings and suggestions…
With what a glory comes and goes t… The buds of spring, those beautifu… Of sunny skies and cloudless times… Life’s newness, and earth’s garnit… And when the silver habit of the c…
I HEARD the bells on Christmas… Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good—will to me…
I stood upon the hills, when heave… Was glorious with the sun’s return… And woods were brightened, and sof… Went forth to kiss the sun-clad va… The clouds were far beneath me; ba…
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…