#AmericanWriters
About the time when bluebells swin… Their elfin belfries for the bee And in the fragrant House of Spri… Wild Music moves; and Fantasy Sits weaving webs of witchery:
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…
The hills hang woods around, where… Dark, breezy boughs of beech-trees… Crisp with the brittle hulls of la… The water hums one bar there; and… Of gold lies steady where the trai…
The bubbled blue of morning-glory… Balloon-blown foam of moonflowers,… Of clematis, through which Septem… Song-hearted, rich in realized des… Are flanked by hotter hues: by taw…
THEY hold their own, they have n… In gloom and glow, in hopes and fe… In love and terror, hovering round The lore of that enchanted ground!… That mystic region, where one hear…
Often, when I wake at night, I can hear the strangest sounds, Stealthy noises, left and right, As of some one going his rounds: On the stairs there comes a crack
Three miles of trees it is: and I Came through the woods that waited… For the cool summer dusk to come; And lingered there to watch the sk… Up which the gradual splendor clom…
Rain will fall on the fading flowe… Winds will blow through the drippi… When Fall leads in her tattered H… With Death to keep them company. All night long in the weeping weat…
Yea, this is he, whose name is syn… Of all that’s noble, though but lo… Who took command upon a stormy mor… When few had hope. Although uncou… Homely of face and gaunt, but neve…
Who hath beheld the goddess face t… Blind with her beauty, all his day… Climbing lone mountains towards he… Weighed with song’s sweet, inexora…
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
There is no rhyme that is half so… As the song of the wind in the rip… There is no metre that’s half so f… As the lilt of the brook under roc… And the loveliest lyric I ever he…
Once I found an ant-lion’s hole And an ant-lion in it: nippers Like a pair of rusty clippers. And I saw a red ant roll In its pit, and, quick as Ned,
He held himself splendidly forward Both early and late; The aim of his purpose was starwar… To master his fate: So he wrought and he toiled and he…
Were I an artist, Lydia, I Would paint you as you merit, Not as my eyes, but dreams, descry… Not in the flesh, but spirit. The canvas I would paint you on