#AmericanWriters #Epigram
When Alcuin taught the sons of Ch… In the free schools of Aix, how k… And with them taught the children… How subjects should be patient and… He touched the lips of some, as be…
Love, love, what wilt thou with th… Naught see I fixed or sure in the… I do not know thee,—nor what deeds… Love, love, what wilt thou with th… Naught see I fixed or sure in the…
There is a quiet spirit in these w… That dwells where’er the gentle so… Where, underneath the white-thorn,… The wild flowers bloom, or, kissin… The leaves above their sunny palms…
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
Sing, O Song of Hiawatha, Of the happy days that followed, In the land of the Ojibways, In the pleasant land and peaceful! Sing the mysteries of Mondamin,
STARS of the summer night! Far in yon azure deeps, Hide, hide your golden light! She sleeps! My lady sleeps!
Listen, my children, and you shall… Of the midnight ride of Paul Reve… On the eighteenth of April, in 'S… Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and…
I leave you, ye cold mountain chai… Dwelling of warriors stark and fro… You, may these eyes behold no more… Rave on the horizon of our plains. Vanish, ye frightful, gloomy views…
Oft I remember those I have known In other days, to whom my heart wa… As by a magnet, and who are not de… But absent, and their memories ove… With other thoughts and troubles o…
And now, behold! as at the approac… Through the gross vapors, Mars gr… Down in the west upon the ocean fl… Appeared to me,—may I again behol… A light along the sea, so swiftly…
Thou ancient oak! whose myriad lea… With sounds of unintelligible spee… Sounds as of surges on a shingly b… Or multitudinous murmurs of a crow… With some mysterious gift of tongu…
Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies! Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses, wreathed in one,
Little sweet wine of Jurançon, You are dear to my memory still! With mine host and his merry song, Under the rose-tree I drank my fi… Twenty years after, passing that w…
No hay pajaros en los nidos de ant… Spanish Proverb The sun is bright,—the air is clea… The darting swallows soar and sing… And from the stately elms I hear
Sweet babe! true portrait of thy f… Sleep on the bosom that thy lips h… Sleep, little one; and closely, ge… Thy drowsy eyelid on thy mother’s… Upon that tender eye, my little fr…