#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
All day the clouds hung ashen with… And through the snow the muffled w… The day seemed drowned in grief to… Like some old hermit whose last be… At eve the wind woke, and the snow…
At midnight in the trysting wood I wandered by the waterside, When, soft as mist, before me stoo… My sweetheart who had died. But so unchanged was she, meseemed
Awake! the dawn is on the hills! Behold, at her cool throat a rose, Blue-eyed and beautiful she goes, Leaving her steps in daffodils.- Awake! arise! and let me see
These are the things which I woul… When I am old, Never to feel in soul doubt’s spir… The heart grow cold With self; but in me that which wa…
How long had I sat there and had… The gleam of the glow-worm till so… The heaven was starless, the fores… And the vistas of darkness stretch… And late ‘mid the trees had I lin…
When Spring comes down the wildwo… A crocus in her ear, Sweet in her train, returned with… The Love of Yester-year Will follow, carolling his lay,
The hills are full of prophecies And ancient voices of the dead; Of hidden shapes that no man sees, Pale, visionary presences, That speak the things no tongue ha…
April calling, April calling, April calling me! I hear the voice of April there In each old apple tree: Bee-boom and wild perfume,
There are some souls Whose lot it is to set their heart… That adverse Fate controls. While others win With little labor through life’s d…
Through leafy windows of the trees The full moon shows a wrinkled fac… And, trailing dim her draperies Of mist from place to place, The Twilight leads the breeze.
COME in, old Ghost of all that u… You find me old, And love grown cold, And fortune fled to younger compan… Departed, as the glory of the day,
THE sunset was a sleepy gold, And stars were in the skies When down a weedy lane he strolled In vague and thoughtless wise. And then he saw it, near a wood,
Blood-Coloured oaks, that stand a… Gaunt slopes, on which the bleak l… And broom-sedge strips of smoky-pi… In which, beneath the ragged sky,… From West to East, from wood to w…
Topsy Turvy is her name; She’s a curiosity: Never sees the world the same As it seems to you and me. ‘All the world is upside down,’
A lily in a twilight place? A moonflow’r in the lonely night?— Strange beauty of a woman’s face Of wildflow’r-white! The rain that hangs a star’s green…
