#AmericanWriters
A Sunbeam and a dropp of dew Lay on a red rose in the South: God took the three and made her mo… Her sweet, sweet mouth, So red of hue,
When I behold how some pursue Fame, that is Care’s embodiment Or fortune, whose false face looks… An humble home with sweet content Is all I ask for me and you.
Spurge and sea-pink, hyssop blue, Dragonhead of purple hue; Catnip, frosted green and gray, With blue butterflies a-sway, These may point you out the way.
From the idyll 'Wild Thorn and L… O Maytime woods! O Maytime lanes… And stars, that knew how often the… Beside the path, where woodbine od… Between the drowsy eyelids of the…
IMPERIAL Madness, will of hand… Builds vast an altar here, and rea… Before the world, on godly land, A Moloch form of blood and tears. And far as eye can see, behold,
Old days, old ways, old homes besi… Old gardens with old-fashioned flo… Poppy, petunia, and many a name Of many a flower of fragrant pedig… Old hills that glow with blue- and…
The path that winds by wood and st… Is not the path for me to-day; The path I take is one of dream, That leads me down a twilight way. By towns, where myths have only be…
Why speak of Giamschid rubies Whence rosy starlight drips? I know a richer crimson, The ruby of her lips. Why speak of pearls of Oman
What ogive gates from gold of Oph… What walls of Pariah, whiter than… What towers of crystal, for the ey… Hast builded on far Islands of Re… Thy cloudy columns, vast, Corinth…
Mother of visions, with lineaments… Breathed on the eyelids of love by… Secretly, sweetly, O presence of… Thou comest mysterious, In beauty imperious,
THERE is a smell of roses in the… Tea-roses, dead of bloom; An invalid, she sits there in the… And contemplates her doom. The pattern of the paper, and the…
Topsy Turvy is her name; She’s a curiosity: Never sees the world the same As it seems to you and me. ‘All the world is upside down,’
ITS friendship and its carelessne… Did lead me many a mile, Through goat’s-rue, with its dim c… And pink and pearl-white smile; Through crowfoot, with its golden…
All things are wrought of melody, Unheard, yet full of speaking spel… Within the rock, within the tree, A soul of music dwells. A mute symphonic sense that thrill…
The day, all fierce with carmine,… An Indian face towards Earth and… The west, like some gaunt vase, in… Its ashes under smouldering skies, Athwart whose bowl one red cloud s…