#AmericanWriters
I cannot but remember When the year grows old— October—November— How she disliked the cold! She used to watch the swallows
Am I kin to Sorrow, That so oft Falls the knocker of my door—— Neither loud nor soft, But as long accustomed,
My most Distinguished Guest and… The pallid hare that runs before t… Having brought your earnest counse… Now have I somewhat of my own to… That it is folly to be sunk in lov…
I knew her for a little ghost That in my garden walked; The wall is high—higher than most— And the green gate was locked. And yet I did not think of that
Not in this chamber only at my bir… When the long hours of that myster… Were over, and the morning was in… I cried, but in strange places, st… I have not seen, through alien gri…
Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that… Give me back my book and take my k… Was it my enemy or my friend I he… “What a big book for such a little… Come, I will show you now my newe…
If it were only still!— With far away the shrill Crying of a cock; Or the shaken bell From a cow’s throat
Childhood is not from birth to a c… The child is grown, and puts away… Childhood is the kingdom where nob… Nobody that matters, that is. Dis… Die, whom one never has seen or ha…
The first rose on my rose-tree Budded, bloomed, and shattered, During sad days when to me Nothing mattered. Grief of grief has drained me clea…
“Son,” said my mother, When I was knee-high, “You’ve need of clothes to cover y… And not a rag have I. “There’s nothing in the house
Just a rainy day or two In a windy tower, That was all I had of you— Saving half an hour. Marred by greeting passing groups
Give away her gowns, Give away her shoes; She has no more use For her fragrant gowns; Take them all down,
Why do you follow me?— Any moment I can be Nothing but a laurel-tree. Any moment of the chase I can leave you in my place
(He speaks, but to himself, being… Think not I have not heard. Well-fanged the double word And well-directed flew. I felt it. Down my side
Oh, come, my lad, or go, my lad, And love me if you like. I shall not hear the door shut Nor the knocker strike. Oh, bring me gifts or beg me gifts…