#AmericanWriters
Svend Dyring he rideth adown the… I myself was young! There he hath wooed him so winsome… Fair words gladden so many a heart… Together were they for seven years…
‘E venni dal martirio a questa pac… These words the poet heard in Par… Uttered by one who, bravely dying… In the true faith was living in th… Where the celestial cross of sacri…
On sunny slope and beechen swell, The shadowed light of evening fell… And, where the maple’s leaf was br… With soft and silent lapse came do… The glory, that the wood receives,
In the village churchyard she lies… Dust is in her beautiful eyes, No more she breathes, nor feels, n… At her feet and at her head Lies a slave to attend the dead,
Ye voices, that arose After the Evening’s close, And whispered to my restless heart… Go, breathe it in the ear Of all who doubt and fear,
‘He is gone to the desert land I can see the shining mane Of his horse on the distant plain, As he rides with his Kossak band! ’Come back, rebellious one!
Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me As I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, All my dreams, come back to me. Sails of silk and ropes of sandal,
Let him who will, by force or frau… Of courtly grandeurs gain the slip… I, leaving not the home of my deli… Far from the world and noise will… Then, without pomps or perils of t…
The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew c… Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the t… And the tide rises, the tide falls…
‘Build me straight, O worthy Mast… Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel… That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestl… The merchant’s word
The Archbishop, whom God loved in… Beheld his wounds all bleeding fre… And then his cheek more ghastly gr… And a faint shudder through his me… Upon the battle-field his knee was…
Once into a quiet village, Without haste and without heed, In the golden prime of morning, Strayed the poet’s wingéd steed. It was Autumn, and incessant
If thou art sleeping, maiden, Awake, and open thy door: 'Tis the break of day, and we must… O’er meadow, and mount, and moor. Wait not to find thy slippers,
'Hads’t thou stayed, I must have… That is what the Vision said. In his chamber all alone, Kneeling on the floor of stone, Prayed the Monk in deep contritio…