#AmericanWriters
Between the rose’s and the canna’s… Beneath her window in the night I… The jeweled dew hangs little stars… The white moonflowers each a spiri… That points the path to mystic sha…
O Days that hold us; and years th… And dreams and mem’ries no time de… Where lie the islands, the morning… And where the highlands we knew wh… Oh, tell us, whether the happy hea…
The white moth-mullein brushed its… Cool, faery flowers against his kn… In places where the way lay dim The branches, arching suddenly, Made tomblike mystery for him.
Pessimist There is never a thing we dream or… But was dreamed and done in the ag… Everything’s old; there is nothing… And so it will be while the world…
What mines the morning heavens unf… What far Alaskas of the skies! That, veined with elemental gold, Sierra on Sierra rise. Heap up the gold of all the world,
Across the world she sends me word… From gardens fair as Falerina’s, Now by a blossom, now a bird, To come to her, who long has lured With magic sweeter than Alcina’s.
How many things, that we would rem… Sweet or sad, or great or small, Do our minds forget! and how one t… One little thing endures o’er all! For many things have I forgotten,
A lonely barn, lost in a field of… A fallen fence, where partly hangs… The skies are darkening and the ho… The Indian dusk comes, red in rai… Along a path, which from a woodlan…
The night is sad with silver and t… And the woodland silence listens t… Of the Lady of the Fountain, whom… With her limbs of samite whiteness… Whom the boyish South Wind seeks…
There in the past I see her as of… Blue-eyed and hazel-haired, within… Dim with a twilight of tenebrious… Her white face sensuous as a delic… Night opens in the tropics. Fold…
It’s up and out with the bat and o… We ride by night in fair and foul; In foul and fair we take the pike, And no man knows where our hand sh… For, gun and pistol, and torch and…
Under the boughs of spring She swung in the old rope-swing. Her cheeks, with their happy blood… Were pink as the apple-bud. Her eyes, with their deep delight,
How fancy romped and played here, Building this house of moss! A faery house, the shade here And sunlight gleam across; And how it danced and swayed here,
Onward he gallops through enchante… The spectres of the forest, dark a… And shadows of vast death environ… Onward he spurs victorious over do… Before his eyes that love’s far fi…
Universes are the pages Of that book whose words are ages; Of that book which destiny Opens in eternity. There each syllable expresses