#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Above her, pearl and rose the heav… Around her, flowers scattered eart… Or down the path in insolence held… Like cavaliers who ride the elves’… Scarlet and blue, within a garden…
There was moonlight in the garden… There was scent of pink and peony… When adown the pathway whitely, wh… She came stepping, oh, so lightly, To the old gate made of pickets.
Ah me! too soon the autumn comes Among these purple-plaintive hills… Too soon among the forest gums Premonitory flame she spills, Bleak, melancholy flame that kills…
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…
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…
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
The cuckoo-sorrel paints with pink The green page of the meadow-land Around a pool where thrushes drink As from a hollowed hand. A hill, long-haired with leathered…
Nevermore at doorways that are bar… Shall the madcap wind knock and th… Nor the circle which thou once did… Shine with footsteps of the neighb… Visitors for whom thou oft didst h…
The slender snail clings to the le… Gray on its silvered underside; And slowly, slowlier than the snai… Bright steps, whose ripening touch… Her warm hands berry-dyed,
This was my dream: It seemed the afternoon Of some deep tropic day; and yet t… Stood round and bright with golden… High in a heaven bluer than the se…
Pale as a star that shines through… Her face was seen at the window-pa… Her sad, frail face that watched i… The face of a girl whose brow was… To whom the kind sun spoke at dawn…
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…
Where hast thou folded thy pinions… Spirit of Dreams? Hidden elusive garments Woven of gleams? In what divine dominions,
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,
When the hornet hangs in the holly… And the brown bee drones i’ the ro… And the west is a red-streaked fou… And summer is near its close– It’s oh, for the gate and the locu…
