#AmericanWriters
Northward over Drontheim, Flew the clamorous sea-gulls, Sang the lark and linnet From the meadows green; Weeping in her chamber,
IN that delightful land, which is… Guarding in sylvan shades the name… Stands on the banks of its beautif… There all the air is balm, and the… And the streets still re-echo the…
Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by… With banners, by great gales inces… Brighter than brightest silks of… And stately oxen harnessed to thy… Thou standest, like imperial Char…
As a pale phantom with a lamp Ascends some ruin’s haunted stair, So glides the moon along the damp Mysterious chambers of the air. Now hidden in cloud, and now revea…
(Tristia, Book III. Elegy X.) Should any one there in Rome reme… And, without me, my name still in… Tell him that under stars which ne… I am existing still, here in a bar…
Let nothing disturb thee, Nothing affright thee All things are passing; God never changeth; Patient endurance
Two good friends had Hiawatha, Singled out from all the others, Bound to him in closest union, And to whom he gave the right hand Of his heart, in joy and sorrow;
Will ever the dear days come back… Those days of June, when lilacs w… And bluebirds sang their sonnets i… Of leaves that roofed them in from… I know not; but a presence will re…
By yon still river, where the wave Is winding slow at evening’s close… The beech, upon a nameless grave, Its sadly—moving shadow throws. O’er the fair woods the sun looks…
Should you ask me, whence these stories? Whence these legends and tradition… With the odors of the forest With the dew and damp of meadows,
How they so softly rest, All they the holy ones, Unto whose dwelling-place Now doth my soul draw near! How they so softly rest,
TRAVELLER Why dost thou wildly rush and roar… Mad River, O Mad River? Wilt thou not pause and cease to p… Thy hurrying, headlong waters o’er
From this high portal, where upspr… The rose to touch our hands in pla… We at a glance behold three things… The Sea, the Town, and the Highw… And the Sea says: My shipwrecks f…
I leave you, ye cold mountain chai… Dwelling of warriors stark and fro… You, may these eyes behold no more… Rave on the horizon of our plains. Vanish, ye frightful, gloomy views…
At Atri in Abruzzo, a small town Of ancient Roman date, but scant… One of those little places that ha… Half up the hill, beneath a blazin… And then sat down to rest, as if t…