#AmericanWriters
A gold fringe on the purpling hem Of hills the river runs, As down its long, green valley fal… The last of summer’s suns. Along its tawny gravel-bed
Behind us at our evening meal The gray bird ate his fill, Swung downward by a single claw, And wiped his hooked bill. He shook his wings and crimson tai…
TO E. W. I KNOW not, Time and Space so i… Whether, still waiting with a trus… Thou bearest up thy fourscore year… Or, called at last, art now Heave…
The Persian’s flowery gifts, the… Of fruitful Ceres, charm no more; The woven wreaths of oak and pine Are dust along the Isthmian shore… But beauty hath its homage still,
I HAVE been thinking of the vict… In Naples, dying for the lack of… And sunshine, in their close, damp… Where hope is not, and innocence i… Appeals against the torture and th…
THE pleasant isle of Rügen looks… To the silver-sanded beaches of th… And in the town of Rambin a littl… Plucked the meadow-flowers togethe… Alike were they in beauty if not i…
The tent-lights glimmer on the lan… The ship-lights on the sea; The night-wind smooths with drifti… Our track on lone Tybee. At last our grating keels outslide…
O Norah, lay your basket down, And rest your weary hand, And come and hear me sing a song Of our old Ireland. There was a lord of Galaway,
Ho! thou who seekest late and long A License from the Holy Book For brutal lust and fiendish wrong… Man of the Pulpit, look! Lift up those cold and atheist eye…
THE SUNLIGHT glitters keen an… Where, miles away, Lies stretching to my dazzled sigh… A luminous belt, a misty light, Beyond the dark pine bluffs and wa…
IN the old Hebrew myth the lion’s… So terrible alive, Bleached by the desert’s sun and w… The wandering wild bees’ hive; And he who, lone and naked-handed,…
O’er the bare woods, whose outstre… Plead with the leaden heavens in v… I see, beyond the valley lands, The sea’s long level dim with rain… Around me all things, stark and du…
I spread a scanty board too late; The old-time guests for whom I wa… Come few and slow, methinks, to-da… Ah! who could hear my messages Across the dim unsounded seas
From the Mahabharata. Heed how thou livest. Do no act b… Which from the night shall drive t… In months of sun so live that mont… Shall still be happy. Evermore re…
Between the gates of birth and dea… An old and saintly pilgrim passed, With look of one who witnesseth The long-sought goal at last. O thou whose reverent feet have fo…