#AmericanWriters
Hold your apron wide That I may pour my gifts into it, So that scarcely shall your two ar… From falling to the ground. I would pour them upon you
From out the dragging vastness of… Wave-fettered, bound in sinuous, s… He toils toward the rounding beach… One moment, white and dripping, si… Cut like a cameo in lazuli,
By day you cannot see the sky For it is up so very high. You look and look, but it’s so blu… That you can never see right throu… But when night comes it is quite p…
It was a gusty night, With the wind booming, and swoopin… Looping round corners, Sliding over the cobble-stones, Whipping and veering,
The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-...
Our meeting was like the upward sw… In the blue night. I do not know when it burst; But now I stand gaping, In a glory of falling stars.
A Minstrel stands on a marble sta… Blown by the bright wind, debonair… Below lies the sea, a sapphire flo… Above on the terrace a turret door Frames a lady, listless and wan,
Wild little bird, who chose thee f… To put upon the cover of this book… Who heard thee singing in the dist… The vague, far greenness of the en… When the damp freshness of the mor…
At first a mere thread of a footpa… Sweeping triumphant across it, it… Whose blossoms were poised above l… While hidden by bloom in a hawthor… It widened a highway, majestic, st…
All day long I have been working, Now I am tired I call: “Where are you?” But there is only the oak-tree rus… The house is very quiet,
Leisure, thou goddess of a bygone… When hours were long and days suff… Wide-eyed delights and pleasures u… By shortening moments, when no gau… Of undone duties, modern heritage,
What is poetry? Is it a mosaic Of coloured stones which curiously… Into a pattern? Rather glass that… By patient labor any hue to take And glowing with a sumptuous splen…
Dear Virgin Mary, far away, Look down from Heaven while I pra… Open your golden casement high, And lean way out beyond the sky. I am so little, it may be
Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap!
When I looked into your eyes, I saw a garden With peonies, and tinkling pagodas… And round-arched bridges Over still lakes.