#AmericanWriters
As I was lying in my bed I heard the church-bell ring; Before one solemn word was said A bird began to sing. I heard a dog begin to bark
Now let no charitable hope Confuse my mind with images Of eagle and of antelope: I am by nature none of these. I was, being human, born alone;
If we must cheat ourselves with an… Then let it be a dream of noblenes… Since it is necessary to express Gall from black grapes—to sew an e… With a rusty needle—chase a spurio…
Ah, love, within the shadow of the… The laurels are cut down; some oth… May bear the classic wreath which… And find the burden honorable and… Have we not passed the laurels as…
Avoid the reeking herd, Shun the polluted flock, Live like that stoic bird, The eagle of the rock. The huddled warmth of crowds
When the world turns completely up… You say we’ll emigrate to the Eas… Aboard a river-boat from Baltimor… We’ll live among wild peach trees,… You’ll wear a coonskin cap, and I…
It is not heaven: bitter seed Leavens its entrails with despair It is a star where dragons breed: Devils have a footing there. The sky has bent it out of shape;
Hate in the world’s hand Can carve and set its seal Like the strong blast of sand Which cuts into steel. I have seen how the finger of hate
I shall die hidden in a hut In the middle of an alder wood, With the back door blind and bolte… And the front door locked for good… I shall lie folded like a saint,
Why should my sleepy heart be taug… To whistle mocking-bird replies? This is another bird you’ve caught… Soft-feathered, with a falcon’s ey… The bird Imagination,
For this you’ve striven Daring, to fail: Your sky is riven Like a tearing veil. For this, you’ve wasted
When foxes eat the last gold grape… And the last white antelope is kil… I shall stop fighting and escape Into a little house I’ll build. But first I’ll shrink to fairy si…
Sleep falls, with limpid drops of… Upon the steep cliffs of the town. Sleep falls; men are at peace agai… While the small drops fall softly… The bright drops ring like bells o…
Why should this Negro insolently… Down the red noonday on such noise… Piled in his barrow, tawnier than… Lie heaps of smouldering daisies,… Their copper petals shriveled up w…
I was always afraid of Somes’s Po… Not the little pond, by which the… Where laughing boys catch alewives… In brown, bright shallows; but the… There, where the frost makes all t…