#AmericanWriters
His laurels fresh from song and la… Romance, art, science, rich in all… And young of heart, how dare we sa… We keep his seventieth festival? No sense is here of loss or lack;
'GREAT peace in Europe! Order r… From Tiber’s hills to Danube’s pl… So say her kings and priests; so s… The lying prophets of our day. Go lay to earth a listening ear;
In calm and cool and silence, once… I find my old accustomed place amo… My brethren, where, perchance, no… Shall utter words; where never hym… Nor deep-toned organ blown, nor ce…
Ere down yon blue Carpathian hill… The sun shall sink again, Farewell to life and all its ills, Farewell to cell and chain! These prison shades are dark and c…
THROUGH the long hall the shutt… A dubious light on every upturned… On locks like those of Absalom th… On the bald apex ringed with scant… On blank indifference and on curio…
It is done! Clang of bell and roar of gun Send the tidings up and down. How the belfries rock and reel! How the great guns, peal on peal,
MASSACHUSETTS BAY, 1760. THE robins sang in the orchard, t… blossoms grew; Little of human sorrow the buds an… knew!
GEORGE FULLER Haunted of Beauty, like the marve… Who sang Saint Agnes’ Eve! How p… Her shapes took color in thy homes… How on thy canvas even her dreams…
ALL night above their rocky bed They saw the stars march slow; The wild Sierra overhead, The desert’s death below. The Indian from his lodge of bark…
Tritemius of Herbipolis, one day, While kneeling at the altar’s foot… Alone with God, as was his pious… Heard from without a miserable voi… A sound which seemed of all sad th…
Thrice welcome from the Land of F… And golden-fruited orange bowers To this sweet, green-turfed June… To her who, in our evil time, Dragged into light the nation’s cr…
Men said at vespers: ‘All is well… In one wild night the city fell; Fell shrines of prayer and marts o… Before the fiery hurricane. On threescore spires had sunset sh…
She came and stood in the Old Sou… A wonder and a sign, With a look the old-time sibyls wo… Half-crazed and half-divine. Save the mournful sackcloth about…
Is this the land our fathers loved… The freedom which they toiled to w… Is this the soil whereon they move… Are these the graves they slumber… Are we the sons by whom are borne
We had been wandering for many day… Through the rough northern country… The sunset, with its bars of purpl… Like a new heaven, shine upward fr… Of Winnepiseogee; and had felt