#AmericanWriters #Epigram
An old man in a lodge within a par… The chamber walls depicted all aro… With portraitures of huntsman, haw… And the hurt deer. He listeneth t… Whose song comes with the sunshine…
Beautiful valley! through whose ve… Unheard the Garigliano glides alo… The Liris, nurse of rushes and of… The river taciturn of classic song… The Land of Labor and the Land o…
Pentecost, day of rejoicing, had c… Gleaming stood in the morning’s sh… Decked with a brazen cock, the fri… Glanced like the tongues of fire,… Clear was the heaven and blue, and…
It was Sir Christopher Gardiner, Knight of the Holy Sepulchre, From Merry England over the sea, Who stepped upon this continent As if his august presence lent
This song of mine Is a Song of the Vine, To be sung by the glowing embers Of wayside inns, When the rain begins
Rabbi Ben Levi, on the Sabbath,… A volume of the Law, in which it… ‘No man shall look upon my face an… And as he read, he prayed that Go… His faithful servant grace with mo…
Black shadows fall From the lindens tall, That lift aloft their massive wall Against the southern sky; And from the realms
In the long, sleepless watches of… A gentle face —the face of one lon… Looks at me from the wall, where r… The night—lamp casts a halo of pal… Here in this room she died; and so…
Into the city of Kambalu, By the road that leadeth to Ispah… At the head of his dusty caravan, Laden with treasure from realms af… Baldacca and Kelat and Kandahar,
Pleasant it was, when woods were g… And winds were soft and low, To lie amid some sylvan scene. Where, the long drooping boughs be… Shadows dark and sunlight sheen
O gift of God! O perfect day: Whereon shall no man work, but pla… Whereon it is enough for me, Not to be doing, but to be! Through every fibre of my brain,
I have read, in some old, marvello… Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres p… Beleaguered the walls of Prague. Beside the Moldau’s rushing strea…
It was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his litt… To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy—fl…
I sat by my window one night, And watched how the stars grew hig… And the earth and skies were a spl… To a sober and musing eye. From heaven the silver moon shone…
A strain of music closed the tale, A low, monotonous, funeral wail, That with its cadence, wild and sw… Made the long Saga more complete. ‘Thank God,’ the Theologian said,