#AmericanWriters #Epigram
Sweet faces, that from pictured ca… As from a castle window, looking d… On some gay pageant passing throug… Yourselves the fairest figures in… With what a gentle grace, with wha…
“Honor be to Mudjekeewis!” Cried the warriors, cried the old… When he came in triumph homeward With the sacred Belt of Wampum, From the regions of the North-Win…
It is the Harvest Moon! On gilde… And roofs of villages, on woodland… And their aerial neighborhoods of… Deserted, on the curtained window-… Of rooms where children sleep, on…
The cabin windows have grown blank As eyeballs of the dead; No more the glancing sunbeams burn On the gilt letters of the stern, But on the figure-head;
Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to low… Comes a pause in the day’s occupat… That is known as the Children’s H… I hear in the chamber above me
The Archbishop, whom God loved in… Beheld his wounds all bleeding fre… And then his cheek more ghastly gr… And a faint shudder through his me… Upon the battle-field his knee was…
Sweet chimes! that in the loneline… Salute the passing hour, and in th… And silent chambers of the househo… The movements of the myriad orbs o… Through my closed eyelids, by the…
On sunny slope and beechen swell, The shadowed light of evening fell… And, where the maple’s leaf was br… With soft and silent lapse came do… The glory, that the wood receives,
I have a vague remembrance Of a story, that is told In some ancient Spanish legend Or chronicle of old. It was when brave King Sanchez
How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain!
FOUR times the sun had risen and… Cheerily called the cock to the sl… Soon o’er the yellow fields, in si… Came from the neighboring hamlets… Driving in ponderous wains their h…
O sweet illusions of song That tempt me everywhere, In the lonely fields, and the thro… Of the crowded thoroughfare! I approach and ye vanish away,
“Give me of your bark, O Birch-tr… Of your yellow bark, O Birch-tree… Growing by the rushing river, Tall and stately in the valley! I a light canoe will build me,
Far and wide among the nations Spread the name and fame of Kwasi… No man dared to strive with Kwasi… No man could compete with Kwasind… But the mischievous Puk—Wudjies,
Out of childhood into manhood Now had grown my Hiawatha, Skilled in all the craft of hunter… Learned in all the lore of old men… In all youthful sports and pastime…