#AmericanWriters
As one, who, journeying westward w… Beholds at length from the up-towe… Far-off, a land unspeakable beauty… Circean peaks and vales of Avalon… And, sinking weary, watches, one b…
UPON the iron crags of War I he… In battle speak while at their fee… In gulfs of human waters, A voice, intoning, ‘Where is God?… And to my heart, in doubt, I said…
Deep in a valley, green with ancie… And wandered through of one small,… Whose bear-grassed banks bristled… Tick-trefoil and the thorny marigo… Bush-clover and the wahoo, hung wi…
‘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.
Within the world of every man’s de… Two things have power to lift the… The first is Work, who dons a mea… The other, Love, whose raiment is… Their child is Hope, and we the h…
Bird, with the voice of gold, Dropping wild bar on bar, To which the flowers unfold, Star upon gleaming star, Here in the forest old:
THERE is no rhyme that is half s… As the song of the wind in the rip… There is no metre that ’s half so… As the lilt of the brook under roc… And the loveliest lyric I ever he…
Briar and fennel and chinquapin, And rue and ragweed everywhere; The field seemed sick as a soul wi… Or dead of an old despair, Born of an ancient care.
Summer may come, in sun-blonde spl… To reap the harvest that Springti… And Fall lead in her old defender… Winter, all huddled up in snows: Ever a-south the love-wind blows
MASTER of human harmonies, wher… And harp and violin and flute acco… Each instrument confessing you its… Within the deathless orchestra of… Albeit at times your music may sou…
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,
I found myself among the trees What time the reapers ceased to re… And in the sunflower-blooms the be… Huddled brown heads and went to sl… Rocked by the balsam-breathing bre…
The beauty of the day put joy, Unbounded, in the woodland’s breas… Through which the wind, like some… Ran on and took no rest. The little stream that made its ho…
Three memories hold us ever With longing and with pain; Three memories Time has never Been able to restrain; That in each life remain
ABOVE the world a glare Of sunset—guns and spears; An army, no one hears, Of mist and air: Long lines of bronze and gold,