#AmericanWriters
And I told the boy next door What Jack Frost had done; and he Said, 'Ah shucks! that’s nothing;… I have seen all that before. You just come along with me;
When on the mountain tops ray-crow… Turns his swift arrows, dart on gl… Let but a rock glint green, the wi… Glad-grazing shyly on each sparse-… Rolled into plunging torrents spri…
There is nothing that eases my hea… As the wind that blows from the pu… ’Tis a hand of balsam whose healin… Unburdens my bosom of ills. There is nothing that causes my so…
Why speak of Giamschid rubies Whence rosy starlight drips? I know a richer crimson, The ruby of her lips. Why speak of pearls of Oman
Between the death of day and birth… By War’s red light, I met with one in trailing sorrows… Whose features had The look of Him who died to set m…
The gods are dead; but still for m… Lives on in wildwood brook and tre… Each myth, each old divinity. For me still laughs among the rock… The Naiad; and the Dryad’s locks
How shall it be with them that day When God demands of Earth His pa… With them who make a god of clay And gold and put all truth away. Shall not they see the lightning-r…
He lived beyond men, and so stood Admitted to the brotherhood Of beauty:-dreams, with which he t… Companioned like some sylvan god. And oft men wondered, when his tho…
What words of mine can tell the sp… Of garden ways I know so well?- The path that takes me in the spri… Past quince-trees where the bluebi… And peonies are blossoming,
The melancholy of the woods and pl… When summer nears its close; the d… Unfathomed sadness of the mists th… About the valleys after night-long… The humming garden, with it tawny…
How fancy romped and played here, Building this house of moss! A faery house, the shade here And sunlight gleam across; And how it danced and swayed here,
What wood-god, on this water’s mos… Lost in reflections of earth’s lov… Did I, just now, unconsciously di… I, who haphazard, wandering at a g… Came on this spot, wherein, with g…
What joy you take in making hotnes… In emphasising dulness with your b… Making monotony more monotonous! When Summer comes, and drouth hat… In all the creeks, we hear your ra…
The wild oxalis Among the valleys Lifts up its chalice Of pink and pearl; And, balsam-breathing,
The dawn is a warp of fever, The eve is a woof of fire; And the month is a singing weaver Weaving a red desire. With stars Dawn dices with Even