#AmericanWriters
Why should I pine? when there in… Are eyes to woo, and not in vain; Dark eyes, and dreamily divine: And lips, as red as sunlit wine; Sweet lips, that never know disdai…
The day is dead; and in the west The slender crescent of the moon Diana’s crystal-kindled crest Sinks hillward in a silvery swoon. What is the murmur in the dell?
Don’t know what to do to-day. Got so many things to do I can’t do them. Want to play, But my toys are all too new I don’t like to play with them:
ABOVE the world a glare Of sunset—guns and spears; An army, no one hears, Of mist and air: Long lines of bronze and gold,
When blood-root blooms and trilliu… Unclasp their stars to sun and rai… My heart strikes hands with winds… And wanders in the woods again. O urging impulse, born of spring,
Can freckled August,-drowsing war… Beside a wheat-shock in the white-… In her hot hair the yellow daisies… O bird of rain, lend aught but sle… To thee? when no plumed weed, no f…
March set heel upon the flowers, Trod and trampled them for hours: But when April’s bugles rang, Up their starry legions sprang, Radiant in the sun-shot showers.
Between the rose’s and the canna’s… Beneath her window in the night I… The jeweled dew hangs little stars… The white moonflowers each a spiri… That points the path to mystic sha…
Thou art the music that I hear in… The poetry that lures me on in dre… The magic, thou, that holds my tho… Of young romance in revery’s mysti… The lily’s aura, and the damask de…
There it lies broken, as a shard, What breathed sweet music yesterda… The source, all mute, has passed a… With its masked meanings still unm… But melody will never cease!
Globed in Heav’n’s tree of azure,… As some round apple hung High in hesperian boughs, thou han… The branch-like mists among: Within thy light a sunburnt youth,…
Here is a tale for any one who wis… There grew a cabbage once among th… A plain, broad cabbage a good wenc… Were kitchen-busy with plebeian di… The rose and lily, toilless, witho…
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…
Not here, O belovéd! not here let… Out there where the storm can enfo… Its breast, that is rainy and cool… In the luminous night of’ the wood… Not here, O belovéd! not here! bu…
Can one resolve and hunt it from o… This love, this god and fiend, tha… Of many a life, in ways no tongue… No mind divine, nor any word impar… Would not one think the slights th…