#AmericanWriters
One dark, dark night—it was long a… The air was heavy and still and wa… It fell to me and a man I know, To see two girls to their father’s… There was little seeing, that I r…
Fain would I shake thee off, but… Thy strong solicitations to withst… Plenty of work lies ready to my ha… Which rests irresolute, and lets i… How can I work, when that seducti…
Gone is the glory from the hills, The autumn sunshine from the mere, Which mourns for the declining yea… In all her tributary rills. A sense of change obscurely chills
Life is a house where many chamber… And all the doors will yield to hi… Save one, whereof men say, behind… The haunting secret. He who keeps… Keeps it securely, smiles perchanc…
Lost Youth, come back again! Laugh at weariness and pain. Come not in dreams, but come in tr… Lost Youth. Sweetheart of long ago,
Early on Christmas Day, Love, as awake I lay, And heard the Christmas bells rin… My heart stole through the gloom Into your silent room,
Every critic in the town Runs the minor poet down; Every critic—don’t you know it? Is himself a minor poet.
When we have laid aside our last e… And said farewell to one or two th… And issued from the house of life… To find a lodging in the house of… With eyes fast shut, in sunless ch…
I shall be spun. There is a voice… Which tells me plainly I am all u… For though I toil not, neither do… I shall be spun. April approaches. I have not begu…
Let me sleep. The day is past, And the folded shadows keep Weary mortals safe and fast. Let me sleep. I am all too tired to weep
The air is dark and fragrant With memories of a shower, And sanctified with stillness By this most holy hour. The leaves forget to whisper
Beyond the Cheviots and the Tweed… Beyond the Firth of Forth, My memory returns at speed To Scotland and the North. For still I keep, and ever shall,
You found my life, a poor lame bir… That had no heart to sing, You would not speak the magic word To give it voice and wing. Yet sometimes, dreaming of that ho…
The voice that sings across the ni… Of long forgotten days and things, Is there an ear to hear aright The voice that sings? It is as when a curfew rings
Hurrah for the Science Club! Join it, ye fourth year men; Join it, thou smooth-cheeked scrub… Whose years scarce number ten Join it, divines most grave;