#AmericanWriters
Beyond the Northern Lights, in re… Of twilight, where the world is gl… And pale as Loki in his cavern wh… The serpent’s slaver burns him to… I saw the phantasms of gigantic me…
My nurse she tells me stories, too… To make me good, she says; but I She scares me so! I want to cry: And if my father ever knew, I guess he’d make things pretty ho…
Universes are the pages Of that book whose words are ages; Of that book which destiny Opens in eternity. There each syllable expresses
Here is a tale for proper men and… There was a woman once who had a d… A fair-faced wench, as stable as i… And frailer than the first spring… She did not need to work, but then…
Rock and root and fern and flower They had led him for an hour To the inmost forest, where, In a hollow, green with moss, That the deep ferns trailed across…
Bleak, in dark rags of clouds, the… That passed so splendidly but yest… Wrapped in magnificence of gold an… And poppy and rose. Now, burdened… Their wildness clad in fogs, like…
Thou pulse of hotness, who, with r… Makest meridian music, long and lo… Accentuating summer! dost thy best To make the sunbeams fiercer, and… With lonesomeness the long, close…
There’s something now that no one… That never seems to mind me Where is it that my shadow goes That often walks behind me? Where does it go when I come home…
Over the rocks she trails her lock… Her mossy locks that drip, drip, d… Her sparkling eyes smile at the sk… In friendship-wise and fellowship: While the gleam and glance of her…
ABOVE the world a glare Of sunset—guns and spears; An army, no one hears, Of mist and air: Long lines of bronze and gold,
Again, in dreams, the veteran hear… The bugle and the drum; Again the boom of battle nears, Again the bullets hum: Again he mounts, again he cheers,
There it lies broken, as a shard, What breathed sweet music yesterda… The source, all mute, has passed a… With its masked meanings still unm… But melody will never cease!
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
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…
The source of laughter lies so nea… And pain to rapture, that one foun… From forth the two Love’s; in who… The image of the Heaven each man…