#AmericanWriters
There are some souls Whose lot it is to set their heart… That adverse Fate controls. While others win With little labor through life’s d…
Yea, whom He loves the Lord God… With disappointments, so that this… Through suffering and failure, the… To make them worthy in that Heave… Of Love’s attainment, where they…
The locust gyres; the heat intensi… The rain-crow croaks from hot-leaf… The butterfly, a flame-fleck, aiml… Droops down the air and knows not… Beside the stream, whose bed in pl…
John-A-Dreams and Harum-Scarum Came a-riding into town: At the Sign o’ the Jug-and-Jorum There they met with Low-lie-down. Brave in shoes of Romany leather,
I passed a cottage ‘twixt the town… And marked its garden, blossoming… And breathing many a scent. Awhil… Near pink and marigold. It seemed a place of prayer; of lo…
A beardless crew we launched our l… Laughed at its lightness; joyed to… Veer in the wind, and, with the fr… Bend o’er the foaming prow the swo… No fears were ours within that sta…
There is a place I search for sti… Sequestered as the world of dreams… A bushy hollow, and a hill That whispers with descending stre… Cool, careless waters, wandering d…
Along the road I smelt the rose, The wild-rose in its veil of rain; And how it was, God only knows, But with its scent I saw again A girl’s face at a window-pane,
THE season of the rose and peace… It could not last. There’s heartbreak in the hills an… Of sorrow in the rain-lashed plain… While Earth regards, aghast,
A grey, bald hillside, bristling h… With leprous-looking grass, that,… Slopes to a valley where a wild st… And every bush seems tortured to d… And shows its teeth of thorns as i…
When on the mountain tops ray-crow… Turns his swift arrows, dart on gl… Let but a rock glint green, the wi… Glad-grazing shyly on each sparse-… Rolled into plunging torrents spri…
Over heaven clouds are drifted; In the trees the wind-witch cries; By her sieve the rain is sifted, And the clouds at times are rifted By her mad broom as she flies.
The flute, whence Summer’s dreamy… Drew music, ripening the pinched k… The burly chestnut and the chinqua… Red-rounding-out the oval haws and… Now Winter crushes to his stormy…
So Love is dead, the Love we knew… And in the sorrow of our hearts’ h… A lute lies broken and a flower fa… Love’s house stands empty and his… Lone in dim places, where sweet vo…
The hat he wore was full of holes, And his battered shoes were worn t… His shirt was a rag, held together… And his trousers patched with outs… A negro tramp, a roustabout,