#AmericanWriters
OH, for some cup of consummating… Filled with life’s kind conclusion… A wine of darkness, that with deat… This sickness called existence!—O… Surcease of sorrow! quiet for the…
High as a star, yet lowly as a flo… Unknown she takes her unassuming p… At Earth’s proud masquerade-the a… Strikes, and, behold, the marvel o…
Out of it all but this remains: I was with one who crossed wide ch… Of the Cordilleras, whose peaks Lock in the wilds of Yucatan, Chiapas and Honduras. Weeks
‘I rode to death, for I fought fo… The Lady Maurine of noble name, ’The fair and faithless!-Though l… Is love the wiser?-Love made song ‘Of all my life; and the soul that…
The Winter Wind, the wind of deat… Who knocked upon my door, Now through the keyhole entereth, Invisible and hoar: He breathes around his icy breath
Here is a tale for poets and for p… There was a bagpipe once, that whe… And droned vile discords, notes th… Nasal and harsh, outbraying all th… And then the thing assumed another…
Low clouds, the lightning veins an… Torn from the forest of the storm, Sweep westward like enormous leave… O’er field and farm. And in the west, on burning skies,
She passed the thorn-trees, whose… Their spider-shadows round her; an… Beneath the ashen moon, was full o… And mouthed and mumbled to the sic… Like some starved hag who sees her…
Spurge and sea-pink, hyssop blue, Dragonhead of purple hue; Catnip, frosted green and gray, With blue butterflies a-sway, These may point you out the way.
The slow reflection of a woman’s f… Grew, as by witchcraft, in the ova… Of that strange glass on which the… As cruel as death beneath the aubu… The dark eyes burned; and, o’er th…
When Lydia smiles, I seem to see The walls around me fade and flee; And, lo, in haunts of hart and hin… I seem with lovely Rosalind, In Arden 'neath the greenwood tre…
When the hornet hangs in the holly… And the brown bee drones i’ the ro… And the west is a red-streaked fou… And summer is near its close– It’s oh, for the gate and the locu…
Sweet lies! the sweetest ever hear… To her he said: Her heart remembers every word Now he is dead. I ask:' If thus his lies can make
THERE a tattered marigold And dead asters manifold, Showed him where the garden old Of time bloomed: Briar and thistle overgrew
THIS world is made a witchcraft… With gazing on a woman’s face. Now ’tis her smile, whose sorcery Turns all my thoughts to melody. Now ’tis her frown, that comes and…