#AmericanWriters #Epigram
I stand beneath the tree, whose br… Thy western window, Chapel of St.… And hear its leaves repeat their b… On him, whose hand thy stones memo… Then I remember one of whom was s…
No sound of wheels or hoof-beat br… The silence of the summer day, As by the loveliest of all lakes I while the idle hours away. I pace the leafy colonnade,
In the market-place of Bruges sta… Thrice consumed and thrice rebuild… town. As the summer morn was breaking, o… And the world threw off the darkne…
Thus ran the Student’s pleasant r… Of Eginhard and love and youth; Some doubted its historic truth, But while they doubted, ne’erthele… Saw in it gleams of truthfulness,
Simon Danz has come home again, From cruising about with his bucca… He has singed the beard of the Ki… And carried away the Dean of Jaen And sold him in Algiers.
I heard the bells on Christmas da… Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet the words repea… Of peace on earth, good will to me… I thought how, as the day had come…
By the shore of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, At the doorway of his wigwam, In the pleasant Summer morning, Hiawatha stood and waited.
The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village
“Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me! Wrapt not in Eastern balms,
The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through clouds like ashes
EVEN as the Blessed, at the fina… Shall rise up quickened, each one… Wearing again the garments of the… So, upon that celestial chariot, A hundred rose ad vocem tanti seni…
Three miles extended around the fi… Valleys and mountains and hills, b… Birch woods crowned the summits, b… Flourished the golden corn, and ma… Lakes, full many in number, their…
Soon as the story reached its end, One, over eager to commend, Crowned it with injudicious praise… And then the voice of blame found… And fanned the embers of dissent
At Drontheim, Olaf the King Heard the bells of Yule-tide ring… As he sat in his banquet-hall, Drinking the nut-brown ale, With his bearded Berserks hale
Not without fire can any workman m… The iron to his preconceived desig… Nor can the artist without fire re… And purify from all its dross the… Nor can revive the phoenix, we are…