#AmericanWriters
The morning is new and the skies a… The day cometh in with the sun and… Hasten, belov’ed! For see, while you were yet sleepi… The cool and virgin feet of dawn w…
THE old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that… Should weep?
Reap, reap the grain and gather The sweet grapes from the vine; Our Lord’s mother is weeping, She hath nor bread nor wine; She is weeping. The Queen of Hea…
These be three silent things: The falling snow . . . the hour Before the dawn . . . the mouth of… Just dead.
I have no heart for noon-tide and… But I will take me where more ten… Shakes, fold on fold, her dewy dar… And shelters me that I may weep i… And feel no pitying eyes, and hear…
Little my lacking fortunes show For this to eat and that to wear; Yet laughing, Soul, and gaily go! An obol pays the Stygian fare. London, 1910
What words Are left thee then Who hast squandered on thy Forgetfulness eternity’s I Love?
(1) The rose new-opening saith, And the dew of the morning saith, (Fallen leaves and vanished dew) Remember death.
(Girl’s Song) In Babylon, in Nineveh, And long ago, and far away, The lilies and the lotus blew That are my sweet of youth to-day.
If it Were lighter touch Than petal of flower resting On grass, oh still too heavy it we… Too heavy!
So may you sleep alway, My baby, my dear son: Amen, Amen, Amen. My baby, my dear son.
As I went, as I went Over the mountains, I heard, I heard, Through cloud-wreath and mist, A hound that was baying -
Never the nightingale, Oh, my dear, Never again the lark Thou wilt hear; Though dusk and the morning still
Oh me, Was there a time When Paradise knew Eve In this sweet guise, so placid and
Guardian Of The Treasure Of Sol… And Keeper Of the Prophet’s Armo… My tent A vapour that The wind dispels and but