#AmericanWriters #PoemsOfPower
Dying? I am not dying. Are you ma… You think I need to ask for heave… I think you are a fiend, who would… To see me struggle in death’s cold… ‘But, man you lie! for I am stron…
If I should die, to-day, To-morrow, maybe, the world would… Would waken from sleep, and say, “Why here was talent! why here was… Why here was a luminous light o’ t…
A maiden sat in teh sunset glow Of the shadowy, beautiful Long Ag… That we see through a mist of tear… She sat and dreamed, with lips apa… With thoughtful eyes and a beating…
We are the army stevedores, lusty… We are given the hardest work of t… We handle the heavy boxes, and sho… While soldiers and sailors work in… But somebody has to do this work,…
Let the old snow be covered with t… The trampled snow, so soiled, and… Let it be hidden wholly from our v… By pure white flakes, all trackles… When Winter dies, low at the swee…
When the first sere leaves of the… I heard, with a heart that was str… Out of the grave of a dead Past c… A voice I fancied forever stilled… All through winter and spring and…
Adieu, Romauld! But thou canst no… Although no more I haunt thy drea… Thy hungering heart forever must r… And starve for those lost moments… Naught shall avail thy priestly ri…
Day’s sweetest moments are at dawn… Refreshed by his long sleep, the… Kisses the languid lips of Night, Ere she can rise and hasten on. All glowing from his dreamless res…
BOOK FIRST. ALL valor died not on the plains… Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine t… To sing of deeds as dauntless and… As e’er lent luster to a warrior’s…
Under the light of the silver moon We two sat, when our hearts were y… The night was warm with the breath… And loud from the meadow the crick… And darker and deeper, oh, love, t…
Said the manicure scissors one day… ‘The shears always have their own… And I think it absurd That I am deterred From entering into life’s fray.
Love much. Earth has enough of bi… Cast sweets into its cup whene’er… No heart so hard, but love at last… Love is the grand primeval cause o… All hate is foreign to the first g…
O praise me not with your lips, de… Though your tender words I prize. But dearer by far is the soulful g… Of your eyes, your beautiful eyes Your tender, loving eyes.
In France I saw a hill-a gentle s… Rising above old tombs to greet th… From soft spring skies. Beyond th… But those green graves bespeak a b… There was a row of narrow beds, ne…
The earth is yours and mine, Our God’s bequest. That testament divine Who dare contest? Usurpers of the earth,