#AmericanWriters
THE woods stretch wild to the mou… And the brush is deep where a man… They have brought the bloodhounds… To the roadside rock where they fo… They have brought the bloodhounds…
Hope on, dear Heart, and you will… The walls of worry fade and flee; And sane of soul and sound of mind… You ‘ll go your way of life and fi… The paths, once barren, suddenly
Where hast thou folded thy pinions… Spirit of Dreams? Hidden elusive garments Woven of gleams? In what divine dominions,
O heart,-that beat the bird’s blit… The blithe bird’s strain, and unde… The song it sang to leaf and bud,- What dost thou in the wood? O soul,-that kept the brook’s glad…
The hornets build in plaster-dropp… And on its mossy porch the lizard… Around its chimneys slow the swall… And on its roof the locusts snow t… Like some sad thought that broods…
Lying alone I dreamed a dream las… Methought that Joy had come to co… For all the past, its suffering an… Yet in my heart I felt this could… All that he said unreal seemed and…
In her wimple of wind and her slip… The twilight comes like a little g… Herding her owls with many’tu-whoo… Her little brown owls in the woodl… Where dimly she walks in her whisp…
I dream again I 'm in the lane That leads me home through night a… Again the fence I see and, dense, The garden, wet and sweet of sense… Then mother’s window, with its sta…
On nights like this, when bayou an… Dream in the moonlight’s mystic ra… I seem to walk like one deep in a… With old-world myths born of the m… Lascivious eyes and mouths of sens…
Oh, I am going home again, Back to the old house in the lane, And mother! who still sits and sew… With cheeks, each one, a winter ro… A-watching for her boy, you know,
The waters leap, The waters roar; And on the shore One sycamore Stands, towering hoar.
Old Man Rain at the windowpane Knocks and fumbles and knocks agai… His long-nailed fingers slip and s… Old Man Rain at the windowpane Knocks all night but knocks in vai…
When I behold how some pursue Fame, that is Care’s embodiment Or fortune, whose false face looks… An humble home with sweet content Is all I ask for me and you.
Bald, with old eyes a blood-shot b… Into the Boar’s-Head Inn: the ho… His fulvous face, and all his raim… Of all the stews and all the East… Upon the battered board again he d…
The night is sad with silver and t… And the woodland silence listens t… Of the Lady of the Fountain, whom… With her limbs of samite whiteness… Whom the boyish South Wind seeks…