#AmericanWriters
We have sent him seeds of the melo… And nailed a warning upon his door… By the Ku Klux laws we can do no… Down in the hollow, 'mid crib and… The roof of his low-porched house…
The night is sad with silver and t… And the woodland silence listens t… Of the Lady of the Fountain, whom… With her limbs of samite whiteness… Whom the boyish South Wind seeks…
SHUT it out of the heart—this gr… O Love, with the years grown old… And let in joy that life is brief, And give God thanks for the end o… The bond of the flesh is transitor…
Take Heart Take heart again. Joy may be lost… It is not always Spring. And even now from some far Summer… Hither the birds may wing.
Hearts, that have cheered us ever,… With words that helped us on the r… The hard, long road of life to who… More than the heart can ever hope… Are they not touchstones, soul-tra…
Don’t know what to do to-day. Got so many things to do I can’t do them. Want to play, But my toys are all too new I don’t like to play with them:
From an ode ‘In Commemoration of… Massachusetts Bay Colony.’ The morn that breaks its heart of… Above the purple hills; The eve, that spills
THE WIND IN THE PINES WHEN winds go organing through t… On hill and headland, darkly gleam… Meseems I hear sonorous lines Of Iliads that the woods are drea…
Last night I lay awake and heard… That madman jongleur of the world… Making wild music: now he seemed t… With harp and lute, so intimately… They were as one; now on a drum he…
When April comes, and pelts with… And apple-blooms each orchard spac… And takes the dog-wood-whitened wo… With rain and sunshine of her mood… Like your fair face, like your fai…
At the moon’s down-going let it be On the quarry hill with its one gn… The red-rock road of the underbrus… Where the woman came through the s… The sumac high and the elder thick…
Rain and wind and candlelight And let us pray a prayer to-night: For every soul, since life is brie… Little of trouble and less of grie… And set a light at the windowpane,
She sleeps; he sings to her. The… And, tired out with too much happi… She fain would have him sing of ol… Quaint songs, that spoke of love i… Her restless soul was straight bes…
There’s nothing to do in the morni… Till it’s time to get up and dress… Till my nurse comes in to button a… And dress me more or less: Then it’s time to get up, get up,…
Oh, Mignon’s mouth is like a rose… A red, red rose, that half uncurls Sweet petals o’er a crimson bee: Or like a shell, that, opening, sh… Within its rosy curve white pearls…