#AmericanWriters
I Saw the daughters of the Dawn c… The winds of Morn danced with the… I saw their ribboned roses blow, t… As over eyes of sapphire tossed th… I saw the summer of their feet imp…
Noera, when sad Fall Has grayed the fallow; Leaf-cramped the wood-brook’s braw… In pool and shallow; When, by the woodside, tall
I Heard a reed among the hills, A woodland reed of music where, Like madcap children, ran the rill… Boisterous, with wildly flowing ha… I knew it for a pipe the Spring
The burden of the sometime years, That once my soul did overweigh, Falls from me, with its griefs and… When gazing in thine eyes of gray; Wherein, behold, like some bright…
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…
The wind that breathes of columbin… And celandines that crowd the rock… That shakes the balsam of the pine… With laughter from his airy locks, Stops at my city door and knocks.
There’s a little girl I know And we call her So-and-So. She is neither good nor bad Good enough for me although! Never saw a girl that had
Yea, whom He loves the Lord God… With disappointments, so that this… Through suffering and failure, the… To make them worthy in that Heave… Of Love’s attainment, where they…
Globed in Heav’n’s tree of azure,… As some round apple hung High in hesperian boughs, thou han… The branch-like mists among: Within thy light a sunburnt youth,…
White moons may come, white moons… She sleeps where early blossoms bl… Knows nothing of the leafy June, That leans above her night and noo… Crowned now with sunbeam, now with…
Here is a tale for spinsters at th… There was a goose, a little goslin… Who went her goose-girl way and lo… As every goose should when ’tis wi… Proper was she as every gosling sh…
Dusk is thy dawn; when Eve puts o… Of gold and purple in the marbled… Thou comest forth like some embodi… Or dim conceit, a lily bud confess… Or of a rose the visible wish; tha…
Here is a tale to tell to rich rel… There was a toad, a Calibanic mon… In whose squat head ambition had e… Most bloated jewel, dear to highes… He was received, though mottled as…
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…
When from the tower, like some swe… The bell drops petals of the hour, That says the world is homing, My heart puts off its garb of care And clothes itself in gold and vai…