#AmericanWriters
The autumn-time has come; On woods that dream of bloom, And over purpling vines, The low sun fainter shines. The aster-flower is failing,
The name the Gallic exile bore, St. Malo! from thy ancient mart, Became upon our Western shore Greenleaf for Feuillevert. A name to hear in soft accord
She sang alone, ere womanhood had… The gift of song which fills the a… Tender and sweet, a music all her… May fitly linger where she knelt t…
Up from the meadows rich with corn… Clear in the cool September morn, The clustered spires of Frederick… Green-walled by the hills of Mary… Round about them orchards sweep,
'Get ye up from the wrath of God’… Ungirded, unsandalled, arise and a… ‘T is the vintage of blood, ’t is… And vengeance shall gather the har… The warning was spoken—the righteo…
LIFT again the stately emblem on… Give to Northern winds the Pine-… Sons of men who sat in council wit… Answering England’s royal missive… Rise again for home and freedom! s…
A FREE PARAPHRASE OF… To weary hearts, to mourning homes… God’s meekest Angel gently comes No power has he to banish pain, Or give us back our lost again;
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…
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…
‘All hail!’ the bells of Christma… ‘All hail!’ the monks at Christma… The merry monks who kept with chee… The gladdest day of all their year… But still apart, unmoved thereat,
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…
A CHRISTIAN! going, gone! Who bids for God’s own image? for… Which that poor victim of the mark… Hath in her suffering won? My God! can such things be?
From the well-springs of Hudson,… Grave men, sober matrons, you gath… And, with hearts warmer grown as y… Play over the old game of going to… All your strifes and vexations, yo…
Some die too late and some too soo… At early morning, heat of noon, Or the chill evening twilight. Th… Whom the rich heavens did so endow With eyes of power and Jove’s own…
The gulf of seven and fifty years We stretch our welcoming hands acr… The distance but a pebble’s toss Between us and our youth appears. For in life’s school we linger on