#AmericanWriters
Corn-colored clouds upon a sky of… And 'mid their sheaves,-where, lik… Left by the reapers to the gatheri… The star of twilight glows,-as Ru… Dreamed homesick 'mid the harvest…
Seemingly over the hill-tops, Possibly under the hills, A tireless wing that never drops, And a song that never stills. Epics heard on the stars’ lips?
THE Season speaks this year of l… Confusing words of strife, Suggesting weeds instead of fruits… In all Earth’s bowers. With heart of Jael, face of Ruth,
A Mile of lane, hedged high with… And dying daisies, white with sun,… Downward into a wood; through whic… Steals like a shadow; over which i… A bridge of logs, worn deep by man…
A shadow glided down the way Where sunset groped among the tree… And all the woodland bower, asway With trouble of the evening breeze… A shape, it moved with head held d…
Dormered and verandaed, cool, Locust-girdled, on the hill; Stained with weather—wear, and dul… Streak’d with lichens; every sill Thresholding the beautiful;
A Far bell tinkles in the hollow, And heart and soul are fain to fol… Gone is the rose and gone the swal… Autumn is here. The wild geese draw at dusk their…
Beyond the barley meads and hay, What was the light that beckoned t… That made her sweet lips smile and… ‘Oh, busk me in a gown of May, And knot red poppies in my hair.’
As one, who, journeying westward w… Beholds at length from the up-towe… Far-off, a land unspeakable beauty… Circean peaks and vales of Avalon… And, sinking weary, watches, one b…
The joys that touched thee once, b… The sympathies of sky and sea, The friendships of each rock and p… That made thy lonely life, ah me! In Tempe or in Gargaphie.
Pessimist There is never a thing we dream or… But was dreamed and done in the ag… Everything’s old; there is nothing… And so it will be while the world…
Let us go far from here! Here there is sadness in the early… Here sorrow waits where joy went l… The sicklied face of heaven hangs… Above the woodland and the meadowl…
The face of the world is a homely… And the look of the world unkind, When harsh on your arm a hand it l… And bids you into the grind, That ‘s little to your mind, my de…
She walks the woods, when evening… With spirits of the winds and leav… And to her side the soul she calls Of every flower she perceives. She walks with introspective eyes
Onward he gallops through enchante… The spectres of the forest, dark a… And shadows of vast death environ… Onward he spurs victorious over do… Before his eyes that love’s far fi…