#AmericanWriters
INSCRIBED TO ROBERT C… Fold her, O Father, in Thine arm… And let her henceforth be A messenger of love between Our human hearts and Thee.
Around Sebago’s lonely lake There lingers not a breeze to brea… The mirror which its waters make. The solemn pines along its shore, The firs which hang its gray rocks…
Immortal love, forever full, Forever flowing free, Forever shared, forever whole, A never ebbing sea! Our outward lips confess the name
Outbound, your bark awaits you. W… Whose prayer availeth much, my wis… Your favoring trad-wind and consen… By sail or steed was never love ou… And, here or there, love follows h…
A DREAR and desolate shore! Where no tree unfolds its leaves, And never the spring wind weaves Green grass for the hunter’s tread… A land forsaken and dead,
'TIS over, Moses! All is lost! I hear the bells a-ringing; Of Pharaoh and his Red Sea host I hear the Free-Wills singing.* We’re routed, Moses, horse and fo…
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,
TO A YOUNG PHYSICIAN,… HEALING THE SICK. So stood of old the holy Christ Amidst the suffering throng; With whom His lightest touch suff…
Not on Penobscot’s wooded bank th… Of the sought City rose, nor yet… The winding Charles, nor where th… Of Naumkeag’s haven rises and ret… The vision tarried; but somewhere…
HAVE ye heard of our hunting, o’… Through cane-brake and forest, '… The lords of our land to this hunt… As the fox-hunter follows the soun… Hark! the cheer and the hallo! the…
THE years are but half a score, And the war-whoop sounds no more With the blast of bugles, where Straight into a slaughter pen, With his doomed three hundred men,
WHERE are we going? where are we… Where are we going, Rubee? Lord of peoples, lord of lands, Look across these shining sands, Through the furnace of the noon,
O strong, upwelling prayers of fai… From inmost founts of life ye star… The spirit’s pulse, the vital brea… Of soul and heart! From pastoral toil, from traffic’s…
For ages on our river borders, These tassels in their tawny bloom… And willowy studs of downy silver, Have prophesied of Spring to come… For ages have the unbound waters
The shadows round the inland sea Are deepening into night; Slow up the slopes of Ossipee They chase the lessening light. Tired of the long day’s blinding h…
