#AmericanWriters
Had a birthday yesterday. First one for, I think, a year. Won’t have one again, they say, Till another year is here. Funny, don’t you think so? I
Amber and emerald, cairngorm and c… Stream through the autumn woods, s… Ways where the wahoo-bush brighten… And where the aster-stalk lifts it… Ways where the brier burns; poplar…
Far in the purple valleys of illus… I see her waiting, like the soul o… With deep eyes, lovelier than ceru… Shadow and fire, yet merciless as… With red lips, sweeter than Arabi…
Below, the tawny Tagus swept Past royal gardens, breathing balm… Upon his couch the monarch slept; The world was still; the night was… Gray, Gothic-gated, in the ray
There was a man rode into town one… Barefooted, hatless, and without a… It was the dead of winter. Round… Were marks of violence: bits and w… Bristled his beard and hair. From…
Yes, I love the homestead. There In the spring the lilacs blew Plenteous perfume everywhere; There in summer gladioles grew Parallels of scarlet glare.
Universes are the pages Of that book whose words are ages; Of that book which destiny Opens in eternity. There each syllable expresses
The old remain, the young are gone… The farm dreams lonely on the hill… From early eve to early dawn A cry goes with the whippoorwill ‘The old remain, the young are gon…
Summer may come, in sun-blonde spl… To reap the harvest that Springti… And Fall lead in her old defender… Winter, all huddled up in snows: Ever a-south the love-wind blows
This is the path he used to take, That ended at a rose-porched door: He takes it now for oldtime’s sake… And love of yore. The blue mertensia, by the stone,
One with the Heaven above Am I its bliss: Part of its truth and love, And what God is. I heal the soul and mind:
Hearts, that have cheered us ever,… With words that helped us on the r… The hard, long road of life to who… More than the heart can ever hope… Are they not touchstones, soul-tra…
Here’s the tale my father told, Walking in the park one night, When the stars shone big and brigh… And the autumn wind blew cold: Once a giant lived of old
John-a-Dreams and Harum-Scarum Came a-riding into town: At the Sign o’ the Jug-and-Jorum There they met with Low-lie-down. Brave in shoes of Romany leather,
She sleeps; he sings to her. The… And, tired out with too much happi… She fain would have him sing of ol… Quaint songs, that spoke of love i… Her restless soul was straight bes…