#AmericanWriters
Darkly October; Where the wild fo… Utters a harsh and melancholy cry; And slowly closing, far a sunset d… Day wildly glares upon.the world o… Where Twilight, with one star to…
Secluded, solitary on some underbo… Or cradled in a leaf, 'mid glimmer… Like Puck thou crouchest: Haply w… The slow toadstool comes bulging,… Through loosening loam; or how, ag…
There is no rhyme that is half so… As the song of the wind in the rip… There is no metre that’s half so f… As the lilt of the brook under roc… And the loveliest lyric I ever he…
With her 't is well now. She died… With all her hope and faith unmarr… Nor lived to see the pearls, Love… Without regard, Cast, lost among
Push back the brambles, berry-blue… The hollowed spring is full in vie… Deep-tangled with luxuriant fern Its rock-embedded, crystal urn. Not for the loneliness that keeps
An Oldham-County Weather Philoso… ‘Who is Corncob Jones?’ you say. Beateningest man and talkingest: Talk and talk th’ enduring day, Never even stop to rest,
I Saw the daughters of the Dawn c… The winds of Morn danced with the… I saw their ribboned roses blow, t… As over eyes of sapphire tossed th… I saw the summer of their feet imp…
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…
Heaped in raven loops and masses Over temples smooth and fair, Have you marked it, as she passes, Gleam and shadow mingled there, Braided strands of midnight air,
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
Beautiful-bosomed, O Night, in th… Move with majesty onward! soaring,… As a singer may soar the notes of… The stars and the moon Through the clerestories high of t…
Inspiration. All who have toiled for Art, who’… Sat equal priests at her high Pen… Only the chrism and sacrament of f… Anointing all, inspired not all th…
Within the world of every man’s de… Two things have power to lift the… The first is Work, who dons a mea… The other, Love, whose raiment is… Their child is Hope, and we the h…
Here is a tale for poets and for p… There was a bagpipe once, that whe… And droned vile discords, notes th… Nasal and harsh, outbraying all th… And then the thing assumed another…
Sad-Hearted spirit of the solitud… Who comest through the ruin-wedded… Gray-gowned with fog, gold-girdled… Of tawny twilights; burdened with… Of rain-wet uplands, chilly with t…