#AmericanWriters
The days that clothed white limbs… And rocked the red rose on their b… Have passed with amber-sandaled fe… Into the ruby-gated west. These were the days that filled th…
O roads, O paths, O ways that lea… Through woods where all the oak-tr… With autumn! and the frosty reds Of fallen leaves make whispering b… For winds to toss and turn upon,
All hushed of glee, The last chill bee Clings wearily To the dying aster. The leaves dropp faster:
What were this life without her? Joy, whose young face is sweet With dreams that flit about her, And rapture wild of feet! With hope, that knows no languor,
In dim samite was she bedight, And on her hair a hoop of gold, Like fox-fire in the tawn moonligh… Was glimmering cold. With soft gray eyes she gloomed an…
Withered and gray as winter; gnarl… With bony hands he crouches by the… His beggar’s coat is patched and w… Rags are his shoes: clutched in hi… A chest he hugs wherein he hoards…
Why do I love you, who have never… My heart encouragement or any caus… Is it because, as earth is held of… Your soul holds mine by some myste… Perhaps, unseen of me, within your…
Little boy sleepy won’t go to bed, Though the Sand Man came an hour… And sand all under his eyelids spr… Though his eyes are heavy and heav… And his little tired feet seem mad…
Here is a tale for all who wish to… There was a thief who, in his cut-… Was hailed as chief; he had a way… Persuasion, masked, behind a weapo… That made it cockrow with each goo…
FEBRILE perfumes as of faded ro… In the old house speak of love to-… Love long past; and where the soft… Down the west gleams, golden-red,… Pointing where departed splendor p…
Those unrequited in their love who… Have never drained life’s chief il…
Roaring winds that rocked the crow… High in his eyrie, All night long, and to and fro Swung the cedar and drove the snow Out of the North, have ceased to…
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… Of his cracked head, as panes are…
There is a hall in every house, Behind whose wainscot gnaws the mo… Along whose sides are empty rooms, Peopled with dreams and ancient do… When down this hall you take your…
When dusk falls cool as a rained-o… And a tawny tower the twilight sho… With the crescent moon, the silver… new moon in a space that glows, A turret window that grows alight;