#AmericanWriters
Once a charcoal wagon passed, And an old black charcoalman, ‘Blacker than a midnight blast,’ Mother said. And he began Crying, ‘Charcoal! charcoal!
Within the world of every man’s de… Three things have power to lift hi… Through dreams, religion, and ecst… The star-like shapes of Beauty, T… I never hoped that, this side far-…
The unpretentious flowers of the w… That rise in bright and banded bro… Waving us welcome, and with kisses… Laying their lives down underneath… Lesson my soul more than the tomes…
September On Cape Ann The partridge-berry flecks with fl… That leads to ferny hollows where… Drones on the aster. Far away the… Points its deep sapphire with a gl…
I took the road again last night On which my boyhood’s hills look d… The old road leading from the town… The village there below the height… Its cottage homes, all huddled bro…
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…
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…
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…
Here among the beeches Winds and wild perfume, That the twilight pleaches Into gleam and gloom, Build for her a room.
Through ferns and moss the path wo… A hollow where the touchmenots Swung horns of honey filled with d… And where like foot-prints violets… And bluets made sweet sapphire blo…
Non numero horas nisi serenas When Fall drowns morns in mist, i… In soul I am a part of it; A portion of its humid beams, A form of fog, I seem to flit
A pond of filth a sewer flows into… Around whose edge the evil ragweed… Poison in every breath; and, cloud… Insects that sing and sting, the p… All hideousness, from every street…
Like some wild child that laughs a… Impatient of its mother’s arms, The wood brook from the hillside l… Eager to reach the neighboring far… Complaining crystal in its throat
To me not only does her soul sugge… Palms and the peace of tropic shor… But, oceaned far beyond the golden… The Fortunate Islands of true Wo…
In the frail hepaticas,- That the early Springtide tossed, Sapphire-like, along the ways Of the woodlands that she crossed,… I behold, with other eyes,