#AmericanWriters
Deep in the wood of willow-trees The summer sounds and whispering b… Bound me as if with glimmering arm… And spells of witchcraft, sorcerie… That filled the wood with phantom…
The acorn-oak Sullens to sombre crimson all its… And where it hugely heaves A giant head dark as congested blo… The gum-tree towers, against the s…
She took her babe, the child of sh… And wrapped it warmly in her shawl… From house to house for work. Pro… A look of wonder on her; raised a… Of Christian outrage. None would…
Seemingly over the hill-tops, Possibly under the hills, A tireless wing that never drops, And a song that never stills. Epics heard on the stars’ lips?
Behold the blossom-bosomed Day ag… With all the star-white Hours in… Laughs out of pearl-lights through… That, leaning on the woodland wild… A sprinkled amber with the showers…
‘He cometh not,’ she said.’ —MARIANA It will not be to-day and yet I think and dream it will; and let The slow uncertainty devise
Where, through the myriad leaves o… The daylight falls, beryl and chry… The glamour and the glimmer of its… Seem visible music, tangible melod… Light that is music; music that on…
Soft and silken and silvery brown, In shoes of lichen and leafy gown, Little blue butterflies fluttering… Deep in the forest, afar from town… There where a stream came tricklin…
Can one resolve and hunt it from o… This love, this god and fiend, tha… Of many a life, in ways no tongue… No mind divine, nor any word impar… Would not one think the slights th…
He rode adown the autumn wood, A man dark-eyed and brown; A mountain girl before him stood Clad in a homespun gown. ‘To ride this road is death for yo…
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,
High on a throne of noisome ooze a… ‘Mid rotting trees of bayou and la… Ghastly she sits beneath the skele… A tawny horror coiling at her feet Fever, whose eyes keep watching, s…
Dull, dimly gleaming, The dawn looks downward Where, flowing townward, The river, steaming With mist, is hidden:
God made her body out of foam and… And for her hair the dawn and dark… Then called two planets from their… And in her face, divinely eloquent… Gave them a firmament.
‘T is n’t long till Christmas now… First thing that you’ll know, it’s… Nurse can tell it, don’t know how, By the smell o’ th’ atmosphere, Shivery and never clear.