#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
The night has set her outposts the… Of wind and rain; And to and fro, with ragged hair, At intervals they search the pane. The fir-trees, creepers redly clim…
She kneels with haggard eyes and h… Unto the Christ upon the Cross: Her gown is torn; her feet are bar… What is this thing she begs of him… The gentle Christ upon the Cross?
Below, the tawny Tagus swept Past royal gardens, breathing balm… Upon his couch the monarch slept; The world was still; the night was… Gray, Gothic-gated, in the ray
How long had I sat there and had… The gleam of the glow-worm till so… The heaven was starless, the fores… And the vistas of darkness stretch… And late ‘mid the trees had I lin…
Who is she, like the spring, who c… From the hills to the smoke-huddle… With her peach-petal face And her wildflower grace, Bringing sunshine and gladness to…
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…
In the frail hepaticas,- That the early Springtide tossed, Sapphire-like, along the ways Of the woodlands that she crossed,… I behold, with other eyes,
In some quaint Nurnberg maler-atelier Uprummaged. When and where was ne… Nor yet how he obtained it. When,… ’Twas painted-who shall say? itsel…
There was a man rode into town one… Barefooted, hatless, and without a… It was the dead of winter. Round… Were marks of violence: bits and w… Bristled his beard and hair. From…
You, who are four years old; You, with the eyes of blue; You with the age of gold Young in the heart of you, Boy with the eyes of blue:
Under mossy oak and pine Whispering falls the fountained st… In its pool the lilies shine Silvery, each a moonlight gleam. Roses bloom and roses die
A Log-Hut in the solitude, A clapboard roof to rest beneath! This side, the shadow-haunted wood… That side, the sunlight-haunted he… At daybreak Morn shall come to me
THROUGH some strange sense of s… I find what all have found before, The presence I have feared so muc… The unknown’s immaterial door. I seek not and it comes to me;
A Little bird sits in our cottonw… And perks his head and sings; And this is the song he pipes to m… While he flirts his tail and wings… ‘Hello! hello!
How often in our search for joy be… Hoping for happiness we chance on…