#AmericanWriters
Thou, oh, thou! Thou of the chorded shell and gold… Of the dark eyes and pale pacific… Music, who by the plangent waves, Or in the echoing night of labyrin…
In her wimple of wind and her slip… The twilight comes like a little g… Herding her owls with many’tu-whoo… Her little brown owls in the woodl… Where dimly she walks in her whisp…
There is a place among the Cape A… That looks from fir-dark summits o… Whose surging sapphire changes con… Beneath deep heavens, Morning win… With golden calm, or sunset citade…
It’s ‘Gallop and go!’ and ‘Slow,… With every man in this life below But the things of this world are a… The postchaise Time that all must… Is old with clay and dust;
Now is it as if Spring had never… And Winter but a memory and dream… Here where the Summer stands, her… Heaped high with bloom and beam, Among her blackberry-lilies, low t…
Here went a horse with heavy labor… Along the woodland side; Deep in the clay his iron hoof-mar… Patient and slow, Where with his human burden yester…
Her heart is still and leaps no mo… With holy passion when the breeze, Her whilom playmate, as before, Comes with the language of the bee… Sad songs her mountain cedars sing…
The waterfall, deep in the wood, Talked drowsily with solitude, A soft, insistent sound of foam, That filled with sleep the forest’… Where, like some dream of dusk, sh…
An agate-black, your roguish eyes Claim no proud lineage of the skie… No starry blue; but of good earth The reckless witchery and mirth. Looped in your raven hair’s repose…
I saw a name carved on a tree— ‘Julia’; A simpler name there could not be— Julia: But seeing it I seemed to see
Above the circus of the world she… Beautiful and base, a harlot crown… Fierce nations, upon whom she snee… Shrieked at her feet and for her p…
Out, out in the open fields, Where the great, green book of Go… The book that its wisdom yields To each soul that is not a clod, Lies wide for the world to read,
All the poppies in their beds Nodding crumpled crimson heads; And the larkspurs, in whose ears Twilight hangs, like twinkling tea… Sleepy jewels of the rain;
Woods of wonder, wonder ways, Where the Faery Piper plays, Bidding all to up and follow Over haunted hill and hollow, And behold again the Fays
If heart be tired and soul be sad As life goes on in homespun clad, Drab, colorless, with much of care… Not even a ribbon in her hair; Heart-broken for the near and new,