#AmericanWriters
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…
The Fool Here is a tale for children and th… There was a fool, a man who’d had… But missed them, somehow; lost the… Tag-ends of things with which he’d…
A RIVER binds the lonely land, A river like a silver band, To crags and shores of yellow sand… It is a place where kildees cry, And endless marshes eastward lie,
Sunflowers wither and lilies die, Poppies are pods of seeds; The first red leaves on the pathwa… Like blood of a heart that bleeds. Weary alway will it be to-day,
What is it now that I shall seek Where woods dip downward, in the h… A mossy nook, a ferny creek, And May among the daffodils. Or in the valley’s vistaed glow,
The path that winds by wood and st… Is not the path for me to-day; The path I take is one of dream, That leads me down a twilight way. By towns, where myths have only be…
‘These winter days,’ my father say… ‘When mornings blow and bite and f… And hens sit cackling in the straw… Stiff with the frost as gates that… Remind me of my youth when, raw,
Squaw-Berry, bramble, Solomon’s-s… And rattlesnake-weed make wild the… You seem to feel that a Faun will… Or leap before your face. . . . Is that the reel of a Satyr’s hee…
Would I could talk as the flowers… To my soul! and the stars, in thei… Through Heaven! and tell to the h… The things that they say, so all m… The dreams they dream, and have to…
EVER since man was man a Fiend h… Outside his House of Good,' War, with his terrible toys, that… To follow murderous arts. His spurs, death-won, are but of l…
The sun sinks scarlet as a barberr… Far off at sea one vessel lifts a… Hurrying to harbor from the coming… That banks the west above a choppy… The sun is gone; the fide is flowi…
Be of good cheer, and have no fear Of Fortune or Tomorrow: To Hope’s low whisper lend an ear And turn away from Sorrow. Time out of mind the soul is blind
Land-Marks The way is rock and rubbish to a r… That leads through woods of stunte… Into a valley that no flower adorn… One mass of blackened brier; overf…
In heavens of riveted blue, that s… With glaucous flame, deep in the w… Stands Midas-like; or, wading on… Touches with splendor all the twil… Each cloud that, like a stepping-s…
The spring may come in her pomp an… And Summer follow with rain and r… Or Fall lead in that old offender… Winter, close-huddled up in snows: Ever a-South the Love-wind blows