#AmericanWriters
The Woolworth Building ENORMOUSLY it lifts Its tower against the splendor of… Like some wild dream that drifts Before the mind, and at the will’s…
And he had mused on lands each bir… That winged from realms of Faleri… O’er seas of the Enchanted Sword, In romance sang him, till he heard Vague foam on Islands of Alcina.
There is no joy of earth that thri… My bosom like the far-off hills! Th’ unchanging hills, that, shadow… Beckon our mutability To follow and to gaze upon
High in the place of outraged libe… He ruled the world, an emperor and… His iron armies swept the land and… And conquered nations trembled at… By him the love that fills man’s s…
Winds that cavern heaven and the c… And canyon with cerulean blue, Great rifts down which the stormy… Like some bright seraph, who, Mailed in intensity of silver mail…
A Tortured tree in a huddled holl… On whose gnarled boughs three leav… A strip of path that the hunters f… That leads to fields of the wind’s… And a rain-washed hill with the wi…
I Have not seen her face, and yet She is more sweet than any thing Of Earth than rose or violet That Mayday winds and sunbeams br… Of all we know, past or to come,
There is nothing at all to do to-d… I can’t go out and run and play; For it’s raining and snowing and s… And Old Man Winter he is to blam… And I just sit here and think it…
There’s something now that no one… That never seems to mind me Where is it that my shadow goes That often walks behind me? Where does it go when I come home…
There is a world Life dreams of,… Invisible save only to the heart: That spreads its cloudy islands, w… Above the Earth,'mid oceans none… Far Faerylands, that have become…
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…
Small twilight singer Of dew and mist: thou ghost-gray,… Of dusk’s dim glimmer, How cool thy note sounds; how thy… Vibrate, soft-sighing,
When dusk is drowned in drowsy dre… And slow the hues of sunset die; When firefly and moth go by, And in still streams the new moon… Another moon and sky:
These are the things which I woul… When I am old, Never to feel in soul doubt’s spir… The heart grow cold With self; but in me that which wa…
The bitter-sweet and red-haw in he… And in her hair pale berries of th… She haunts the coves and every Ca… The Indian, Autumn, wandered from… Beside the sea, upon a rock, she s…