#AmericanWriters
Immortal life is something to be e… By slow, self-conquest, comradeshi… And patient seeking after higher t… We cannot follow our own wayward w… And feed our baser appetites and g…
Batter in the home place, That was nobly done; Try and get the first base– Run! Run! RUN!
You left me with the autumn time; When the winter stripped the fores… Then dressed it in his spotless ri… When frosts were lurking in the ai… You left me here and went away.
Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine… As valued friends. He cannot know The zest of life who runneth here His earthly race without a foe. I saw a prize, “Run,” cried my fr…
I called to the wind of the Winte… As he sped like a steed on his way… ‘Oh! rest for awhile on thy journe… And answer these questions, I pra… ’Who is the foe to all virtue,
Our thoughts are moulding unmade s… And, like a blessing or a curse, They thunder down the formless yea… And ring throughout the universe. We build our futures by the shape
Uncle Rob says, That once on a time the fire flies Were stars with the others up in t… They used to shimmer, and dance an… Night after night in the Milky Wa…
The year has but one June, dear f… The year has but one June; And when that perfect month doth e… The robin’s song, though loud, tho… Seems never quite in tune.
What a terrible night! Does the N… The Night, with her black veil do… Like an ordained nun, know what li… That awful, motionless, snow-white… The winds seem crazed, and, wildly…
All through the night time, and al… Dreading the morning and dreading… Nearer and nearer we drift to the… Season of beauty and season of bli… Leaves on the linden, and sun on t…
Think of it, think of it over the… Thousands of men to-day march on t… Think how the sun shines on fields… How the air chokes, with the canno… How in the shadows, perchance, of…
A trusting little leaf of green, A bold audacious frost; A rendezvous, a kiss or two, And youth for ever lost. Ah, me!
Where have they gone to-the little… With natural manners and natural c… Who love their dollies and like th… And talk of something besides the… Little old women in plenty I find…
Do you know what moves the tides As they swing from low to high? ’Tis the love, love, love, Of the moon within the sky. Oh! they follow where she guides,
And now, when poets are singing Their songs of olden days, And now, when the land is ringing With sweet Centennial lays, My muse goes wandering backward,