#AmericanWriters
It is not a word spoken, Few words are said; Nor even a look of the eyes Nor a bend of the head, But only a hush of the heart
I plucked a snow-drop in the sprin… And in my hand too closely pressed… The warmth had hurt the tender thi… I grieved to see it withering. I gave my love a poppy red,
When Love was born I think he lay Right warm on Venus’ breast, And whiles he smiled and whiles wo… And whiles would take his rest. But always, folded out of sight,
BOWED as an elm under the weight… So earth is bowed, under her weigh… Molten sea, richness of leaves and… Bronze of sea-grasses. Clefts in the cliff shelter the pu…
Her voice is like clear water That drips upon a stone In forests far and silent Where Quiet plays alone. Her thoughts are like the lotus
It will not hurt me when I am old… A running tide where moonlight bur… Will not sting me like silver snak… The years will make me sad and col… It is the happy heart that breaks.
O LOVELY chance, what can I do To give my gratefulness to you? You rise between myself and me With a wise persistency; I would have broken body and soul,
I built a little House of Dreams, And fenced it all about, But still I heard the Wind of Tr… That roared without. I laid a fire of Memories
I would live in your love as the s… Borne up by each wave as it passes… I would empty my soul of the dream… I would beat with your heart as it…
There is no magic any more, We meet as other people do, You work no miracle for me Nor I for you. You were the wind and I the sea -
A thousand miles beyond this sun-s… Somewhere the waves creep cool alo… The ebbing tide forsakes the listl… With the old murmur, long and musi… The windy waves mount up and curve…
Only in sleep I see their faces, Children I played with when I was… Louise comes back with her brown h… Annie with ringlets warm and wild. Only in sleep Time is forgotten—
The dearest child in all the world… Should have the dearest songs, And that is why this little book To David-Boy belongs.
As kings, seeing their lives about… Take off the heavy ermine and the… So had the trees that autumn-time… Their golden garments on the dying… When I, who watched the seasons i…
IN the last year I have learned How few men are worth my trust; I have seen the friend I loved Struck by death into the dust, And fears I never knew before