#AmericanWriters
Like colored lanterns swung in El… Wild morning-glories light the tan… And, like the rosy rockets of the… Burns the sloped crimson of the ca…
There is a voice that calls to me;… That calls within my heart of hear… When Summer doffs her crown, my d… The spirit of September walks thr… It calls my heart beyond the mart,…
Those were the days of doubt. How… It all comes back! This ribbon, s… Brings that far past so very near I lose my own identity, And seem two beings: one that’s he…
Sometimes, when I’m gone to-bed, And it’s all dark in the room, Seems I hear somebody tread Heavy, rustling through the gloom: And then something there goes ‘boo…
God made her body out of foam and… And for her hair the dawn and dark… Then called two planets from their… And in her face, divinely eloquent… Gave them a firmament.
The night has set her outposts the… Of wind and rain; And to and fro, with ragged hair, At intervals they search the pane. The fir-trees, creepers redly clim…
She walks with the wind on the win… When the rocks are loud and the wa… And all night long she calls throu… ‘O my children, come home!’ Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered…
One with the Heaven above Am I its bliss: Part of its truth and love, And what God is. I heal the soul and mind:
She was a queen. 'Midst mutes and… A mameluke, he loved her.—Waves Dashed not more hopelessly the pav… Of her high marble palace-stair Than lashed his love his heart’s d…
The scent of dittany was hot. Its smell intensified the heat: Into his brain it seemed to beat With memories of a day forgot, When she walked with him through t…
A grey, bald hillside, bristling h… With leprous-looking grass, that,… Slopes to a valley where a wild st… And every bush seems tortured to d… And shows its teeth of thorns as i…
THE moon, a circle of gold, O’er the crowded housetops rolled, And peeped in an attic, where, ‘Mid sordid things and bare, A sick child lay and gazed
I climbed a forest path and found A dim cave in the dripping ground, Where dwelt the spirit of cool sou… Who wrought with crystal triangles… And hollowed foam of rippled bells…
There is a path that leads Through purple iron-weeds, By button-bush and mallow Along a creek; A path that wildflowers hallow,
Masks Death rides black-masked to-night;… Madness beside him brandishes a to… The peaceful farmhouse with its vi… Lies in their way. Death lifts a…