#AmericanWriters
It is the Harvest Moon! On gilde… And roofs of villages, on woodland… And their aerial neighborhoods of… Deserted, on the curtained window-… Of rooms where children sleep, on…
When the dying flame of day Through the chancel shot its ray, Far the glimmering tapers shed Faint light on the cowled head; And the censer burning swung,
Love, love, what wilt thou with th… Naught see I fixed or sure in the… I do not know thee,—nor what deeds… Love, love, what wilt thou with th… Naught see I fixed or sure in the…
Sweet as the tender fragrance that… When martyred flowers breathe out… Sweet as a song that once consoled… But never will be sung to us again… Is thy remembrance. Now the hour…
In the market—place of Bruges sta… Thrice consumed and thrice rebuild… town. As the summer morn was breaking, o… And the world threw off the darkne…
There is no flock, however watched… But one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside, howsoe’er de… But has one vacant chair! The air is full of farewells to th…
This is the Arsenal. From floor t… Like a huge organ, rise the burnis… But from their silent pipes no ant… Startles the villages with strange… Ah! what a sound will rise, how wi…
There is a Reaper, whose name is… And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a br… And the flowers that grow between. “Shall I have naught that is fair…
Thus then, much care-worn, The son of Healfden Sorrowed evermore, Nor might the prudent hero His woes avert.
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…
Will then, Duperrier, thy sorrow… And shall the sad discourse Whispered within thy heart, by ten… Only augment its force? Thy daughter’s mournful fate, into…
Touched by the pathos of these rhy… The Theologian said: ‘All praise Be to the ballads of old times And to the bards of simple ways, Who walked with Nature hand in ha…
‘Yes, well your story pleads the c… Of those dumb mouths that have no… Only a cry from each to each In its own kind, with its own laws… Something that is beyond the reach
As the dim twilight shrouds The mountain’s purple crest, And Summer’s white and folded clo… Are glowing in the west, Loud shouts come up the rocky dell…
Annie of Tharaw, my true love of… She is my life, and my goods, and… Annie of Tharaw, her heart once a… To me has surrendered in joy and i… Annie of Tharaw, my riches, my go…