#AmericanWriters
A Sunbeam and a dropp of dew Lay on a red rose in the South: God took the three and made her mo… Her sweet, sweet mouth, So red of hue,
I know a pool, whose crystalline r… Sleeps under walls of granite, whe… Leans looking at its image, line f… Repeated with the sumach and wild-… That redden on the rocks; where, a…
Pale faces looked up at me, up fro… Pale hands reached down to me, out… As over the hills, robed on with t… The Day’s last Hours, departed, a… Pale fingers beckoned me on; pale…
Here is a tale for workmen and the… There was a torrent once that down… Flashed its resistless way; a foam… Basaltic-built, ‘twixt cataract-he… Down from its eagle eyrie nearer,…
Among the fields the camomile Seems blown mist in the lightning’… Cool, rainy odors drench the air; Night speaks above; the angry smil… Of storm within her stare.
It is the time when, by the forest… The touch-me-nots hang fairy folly… When ferns and flowers fill the li… Of rocks with colour, rich as orie… And in my heart I hear a voice th…
This was her home; one mossy gable… Above the cedars and the locust tr… This was her home, whose beauty no… A lonely memory for melodies The wild birds sing, the wild bird…
Down through the woods, along the… That fords the stream; by rock and… Where in the bramble-bell the bee Swings; and through twilights gree… The redbird flashes suddenly,
The hurl and hurry of the winds of… That tore the ash and bowed the pi… Are past and done with: winds, tha… The forests with enormous, scythe-… And from the darkening deep,
A pond of filth a sewer flows into… Around whose edge the evil ragweed… Poison in every breath; and, cloud… Insects that sing and sting, the p… All hideousness, from every street…
Three memories hold us ever With longing and with pain; Three memories Time has never Been able to restrain; That in each life remain
When blood-root blooms and trilliu… Unclasp their stars to sun and rai… My heart strikes hands with winds… And wanders in the woods again. O urging impulse, born of spring,
You have forgot: it once was red With life, this rose, to which you… When, there in happy days gone by, You plucked it, on my breast to li… ‘Sleep there, O rose! how sweet a…
No more to strip the roses from The rose-boughs of her porch’s pla… I dreamed last night that I was h… Beside a rose her face. I must have smiled in sleep who kn…
Soft and silken and silvery brown, In shoes of lichen and leafy gown, Little blue butterflies fluttering… Deep in the forest, afar from town… There where a stream came tricklin…