#AmericanWriters
Take heart again. Joy may be lost… It is not always Spring. And even now from some far Summer… Hither the birds may wing.
There it lies broken, as a shard, What breathed sweet music yesterda… The source, all mute, has passed a… With its masked meanings still unm… But melody will never cease!
There is a poetry that speaks Through common things: the grassho… That in the hot weeds creaks and c… Says all of summer to my ear: And in the cricket’s cry I hear
The beauty of the day put joy, Unbounded, in the woodland’s breas… Through which the wind, like some… Ran on and took no rest. The little stream that made its ho…
When down the west the new moon sl… A curved canoe that dipped and tip… When from the rose the dewdropp dr… As if it shed its heart’s blood sl… As softly silent as a star
Topsy Turvy is her name; She’s a curiosity: Never sees the world the same As it seems to you and me. ‘All the world is upside down,’
There is a world Life dreams of,… Invisible save only to the heart: That spreads its cloudy islands, w… Above the Earth,'mid oceans none… Far Faerylands, that have become…
Oh, Mignon’s mouth is like a rose… A red, red rose, that half uncurls Sweet petals o’er a crimson bee: Or like a shell, that, opening, sh… Within its rosy curve white pearls…
My nurse she tells me stories, too… To make me good, she says; but I She scares me so! I want to cry: And if my father ever knew, I guess he’d make things pretty ho…
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!
She came through shade and shine, By scarlet trumpetvine And fragrant buttonbush, That heaped the wayside hush And oh!
I climbed a forest path and found A dim cave in the dripping ground, Where dwelt the spirit of cool sou… Who wrought with crystal triangles… And hollowed foam of rippled bells…
All day the primroses have thought… Their golden heads close-haremed f… All day the mystic moonflowers sil… Veiled snowy faces, that no bee mi… Or butterfly that, weighed with po…
The shivering wind sits in the oak… Twisted and tortured, nevermore ar… Grief and decay sit with it; they,… Autumnal touch makes hectic-red th… Of all the oak leaves; desolating,…
THEY hold their own, they have n… In gloom and glow, in hopes and fe… In love and terror, hovering round The lore of that enchanted ground!… That mystic region, where one hear…
