#AmericanWriters
When all is done, and my last word… And ye who loved me murmur, ‘He i… Let no one weep, for fear that I… And sorrow too that ye should sorr… When all is done and in the oozing…
The smell of the sea in my nostril… The sound of the sea in mine ears; The touch of the spray on my burni… Like the mist of reluctant tears. The blue of the sky above me,
I have no fancy for that ancient c… That makes us masters of our desti… And not our lives, to hold or give… As will directs; I cannot, will n… That men, the subtle worms, who pl…
‘THOU art a fool,’ said my head… ‘Indeed, the greatest of fools tho… To be led astray by the trick of a… By a smiling face or a ribbon smar… And my heart was in sore distress.
Not they who soar, but they who pl… Their rugged way, unhelped, to Go… Are heroes; they who higher fare, And, flying, fan the upper air, Miss all the toil that hugs the so…
Gray is the palace where she dwell… Grimly the poplars stand There by the window where she sits… My Lady of Castle Grand. There does she bide the livelong d…
IT’s all a farce, —these tales th… About the breezes sighing, And moans astir o’er field and del… Because the year is dying. Such principles are most absurd, —
W’EN de evenin’ shadders Come a—glidin’ down, Fallin’ black an’ heavy Ovah hill an’ town, Ef you listen keerful,
Key and bar, key and bar, Iron bolt and chain! And what will you do when the Kin… To enter his domain? Turn key and lift bar,
Over the hills and the valleys of… Slowly I take my way. Life is the night with its dream—v… Death is the waking at day. Down thro’ the dales and the bower…
Caught Susanner whistlin’; well, It’s most nigh too good to tell. ‘Twould ’a’ b’en too good to see Ef it had n’t b’en fur me, Comin’ up so soft an’ sly
A little dreaming by the way, A little toiling day by day; A little pain, a little strife, A little joy,—and that is life. A little short—lived summer’s morn…
I AM no priest of crooks nor cree… For human wants and human needs Are more to me than prophets’ deed… And human tears and human cares Affect me more than human prayers.
Why was it that the thunder voice… Should call thee, studious, from t… Where calm—eyed Pallas with still… And charge thee seek the turmoil o… What bade thee hear the voice and…
SILENTLY without my window, Tapping gently at the pane, Falls the rain. Through the trees sighs the breeze Like a soul in pain.