#AmericanWriters
Sometimes I dip my pen and find t… The salamanders flying forth I ca… It’s Etna, or Vesuvius, if those… And then ’tis but itself again, an… And so my blood grows cold. I say…
WRITTEN FOR LORADO… To be given in the manner of th… Hawk of the Rocks, Yours is our cause to-day. Watching your foes
Would that in body and spirit Sha… Visible emperor of the deeds of T… With Justice still the genius of… Giving each man his due, each pass… Impartial as the rain from Heaven…
Upon her breast her hands and hair Were tangled all together. The moon of June forbade me not '… The golden night time weather In balmy sighs commanded me
The moon is but a candle-glow That flickers thro’ the gloom: The starry space, a castle hall: And Earth, the children’s room, Where all night long the old trees…
’Tis not too late to build our you… Cleaner than Holland, courtlier t… Devout like early Rome, with hear… Hearths that will recreate the bre…
This is the song The spice-tree sings: “Hunger and fire, Hunger and fire, Sky-born Beauty—
(To a Man who maintained that… I would be one with the dark, dark… Follow the plough with a yokel tre… I would be part of the Indian cor… Walking the rows with the plumes o…
In fairyland the little boys Would rather fight than eat their… They like to chase a gauze-winged… And catch and beat him till he squ… Sometimes they come to sleeping me…
AFTER HAVING READ A… Ah, they are passing, passing by, Wonderful songs, but born to die! Cries from the infinite human seas… Waves thrice-winged with harmonies…
I hate this yoke; for the world’s… Knowing 'twill weigh as much on yo… Knowing you love your freedom dear… Knowing that love unchained has be… Our one great wine (yet spent too…
Would that by Hindu magic we beca… Dark monks of jeweled India long… Sitting at Prince Siddartha’s fee… The foolishness of gold and love a… The gospel of the Great Renunciat…
UNDER THE BLESSING… Though I have found you llke a sn… On sunny days have found you weak… Though I have often held your gir… Drooped on my shoulder, faint from…
Written to Miss Alice L. F.… Your fine white hand is Heaven’s… To cure the wide world, stricken s… Bleeding at the breast and head, Tearing at its wounds once more.
Once, in the city of Kalamazoo, The gods went walking, two and two… With the friendly phoenix, the sta… The speaking pony and singing lion… For in Kalamazoo in a cottage apa…