#AmericanWriters
When dusk is drowned in drowsy dre… And slow the hues of sunset die; When firefly and moth go by, And in still streams the new moon… Another moon and sky:
White art thou, O Lilith! as the… Glitters and clingingly silvers an… Of the beautiful breasts of the ny… That crystal and pearl by clusters… Forests of tenebrous palm.
Here is a tale for any man or woma… A fool sought Death; and braved h… Among the graves. At last he hear… And something passed him, monstrou… And by a tomb, that reared a broke…
Unto what end, I ask, unto what e… Is all this effort, this unrest an… Work that avails not? strife and m… Ambitions vain that rack our heart… Did labor but avail! did it defend
Within the hollowed hand of God, Blood-red they lie, the dice of fa… That have no time nor period, And know no early and no late. Postpone you can not, nor advance
Sweet lies! the sweetest ever hear… To her he said: Her heart remembers every word Now he is dead. I ask:' If thus his lies can make
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…
Wherein is it so beautiful? In all things dim and all things c… In silence, that is built of leave… And wind and spray of waterfall; And, golden as the half-ripe sheav…
Briar and fennel and chinquapin, And rue and ragweed everywhere; The field seemed sick as a soul wi… Or dead of an old despair, Born of an ancient care.
Yea, why I love thee let my heart… I look upon thy face and then divi… How men could die for beauty, such… Deeming it sweet To lay my life and manhood at thy…
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…
Deep-hearted roses of the purple d… And lilies of the morn; And cactus, holding up a slender t… Of fragrance on a thorn; All heavy flowers, sultry with the…
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…
An old, lost lane; where can it le… To stony pastures, where the weed Purples its plume, or sails its se… And from one knoll, the vetch make… Trailing its glimmering ribbon on,
Here is a tale for spinsters at th… There was a goose, a little goslin… Who went her goose-girl way and lo… As every goose should when ’tis wi… Proper was she as every gosling sh…