#AmericanWriters
Garlands upon his grave And flowers upon his hearse, And to the tender heart and brave The tribute of this verse. His was the troubled life,
Somewhat back from the village str… Stands the old—fashioned country—s… Across its antique portico Tall poplar—trees their shadows th… And from its station in the hall
Mr. Finney had a turnip, And it grew, and it grew, And it grew behind the barn, And the turnip did no harm. And it grew, and it grew,
She dwells by Great Kenhawa’s sid… In valleys green and cool; And all her hope and all her pride Are in the village school. Her soul, like the transparent air
This is the Arsenal. From floor t… Like a huge organ, rise the burnis… But from their silent pipes no ant… Startles the villages with strange… Ah! what a sound will rise, how wi…
I pace the sounding sea—beach and… How the voluminous billows roll an… Upheaving and subsiding, while the… Shines through their sheeted emera… And the ninth wave, slow gathering…
Touched by the pathos of these rhy… The Theologian said: ‘All praise Be to the ballads of old times And to the bards of simple ways, Who walked with Nature hand in ha…
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…
MILES STANDISH In the Old Colony days, in Plymo… To and fro in a room of his simple… Clad in doublet and hose, and boot… Strode, with a martial air, Miles…
In those days the Evil Spirits, All the Manitos of mischief, Fearing Hiawatha’s wisdom, And his love for Chibiabos, Jealous of their faithful friendsh…
Can it be the sun descending O’er the level plain of water? Or the Red Swan floating, flying, Wounded by the magic arrow, Staining all the waves with crimso…
‘Signor Luigi,’ said the Jew, When the Sicilian’s tale was told… ‘The were-wolf is a legend old, But the were-ass is something new, And yet for one I think it true.
There is a quiet spirit in these w… That dwells where’er the gentle so… Where, underneath the white—thorn,… The wild flowers bloom, or, kissin… The leaves above their sunny palms…
Ah, Love! Perjured, false, treacherous Love… Enemy Of all that mankind may not rue! Most untrue
‘I thought before your tale began,… The Student murmured, ‘we should… Some legend written by Judah Rav In his Gemara of Babylon; Or something from the Gulistan,—