#AmericanWriters
They cut it down, and where the pi… Of forest night had hid eternal th… They scaled the sky with towers an… To make a city for their revelling… …
There is snow on the ground, And the valleys are cold, And a midnight profound Blackly squats o'er the wold; But a light on the hilltops half-s…
How dull the wretch, whose philoso… Disdains the pleasures of fantasti… Whose prosy thoughts the joys of l… And wreck the solace of the poet's… Young Zeno, practis'd in the Stoi…
Little Tiger, burning bright With a subtle Blakeish light, Tell what visions have their home In those eyes of flame and chrome! Children vex thee - thoughtless, g…
Haughty Sphinx, whose amber eyes Hold the secrets of the skies, As thou ripplest in thy grace, Round the chairs and chimney-place… Scorn on thy patrician face:
Babels of blocks to the high heave… Flames of futility swirling below; Poisonous fungi in brick and stone… Lanterns that shudder and death-li… Black monstrous bridges across oil…
Eternal brood the shadows on this… Dreaming of centuries that have go… Great elms rise solemnly by slab a… Arched high above a hidden world o… Round all the scene a light of mem…
Black loom the crags of the upland… Dark are the sands of the far-stre… Dim are the pathways and rocks tha… Sadly of years in the lost Neverm… Soft laps the ocean on wave-polish…
There's an ancient, ancient garden… Where the very Maytime sunligh… Where the gaudy-tinted blossoms… And the crumbling walls and pil… There are vines in nooks and cr…
England! My England! can the surg… That lies between us tear my heart… Can distant birth and distant dwel… Th' ancestral blood that warms the… Isle of my Fathers! hear the fili…
In the Midnight heaven's burning … Through the ethe… Once I watch'd… An alluring aure… Ev'ry eve aloft…
The thing, he said, would come in… From the old churchyard on the hil… But crouching by an oak fire's who… I tried to tell myself it could no… Surely, I mused, it was pleasantr…
Through the ghoul-guarded gateways… Past the wan-mooned abysses of nig… I have lived o'er my lives without… I have sounded all things with my… And I struggle and shriek ere the…
May good St. Nick, like as a bird… Bring thee rich blessings in his a… Long by thy chimney rest his pond'… And leave with lessen'd weight upo…
O'er the midnight moorlands crying… Thro' the cypress forests sighing, In the night-wind madly flying, Hellish forms with streaming hair; In the barren branches creaking,
