#AmericanWriters
April calling, April calling, April calling me! I hear the voice of April there In each old apple tree: Bee-boom and wild perfume,
I Saw the day like some great mon… Gold-couched, behind the clouds’ r… Then, purple-sandaled, clad in sil… Of sleep, through halls of skyey l… The twilight, like a mourning quee…
CLOVE-SPICY pinks and phlox t… With drowsy indolence; And in the evening skies Interior splendor, pregnant with s… As if in some new wise
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…
The golden discs of the rattlesnak… That spangle the woods and dance– No gleam of gold that the twilight… Is strong as their necromance: For, under the oaks where the wood…
The old gate clicks, and down the… Between clove-pink and hollyhock, Still young of face though gray of… Among her garden’s flowers she goe… At evening’s close,
John-A-Dreams and Harum-Scarum Came a-riding into town: At the Sign o’ the Jug-and-Jorum There they met with Low-lie-down. Brave in shoes of Romany leather,
She stood waist-deep among the bri… Above in twisted lengths were roll… The sunset’s tangled whorls of gol… Blown from the west’s cloud-pillar… And in the hush no sound did mar,
When on the leaves the rain persis… And every gust brings showers down… When all the woodland smokes with… I take the old road out of town Into the hills through which it tw…
Like some gaunt ghost the tempest… Outside my door; its icy nails Beat on the pane: and Night and S… Around the house, with furious fla… Of wind, from which the slant slee…
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…
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,
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…
Baroque, but beautiful, between th… The valves of nacre of a mussel-sh… Behold, a pearl! shaped like the b… Of some strange blossom that long… Of summer coax to open: all the mo…
Christmas Eve is here at last. And I’m happy as can be. Going to have a Christmas-tree, And more toys than any past Christmas saw or ever had,