#AmericanWriters
Friend, for the sake of loves we h… The love of books, of paintings, r… And for the sake of that divine af… The love of art, passing the love… By which all life’s made nobler, s…
And the boy that lives next door Said to me one day, There’s more In those rhymes of Mother Goose And those tales, I don’t care who… Arabian Nights or Grimm’s, or, we…
Whiten, oh whiten, O clouds of la… Lily-like clouds that whiten above… Now like a dove, and now like a sw… But never, oh never pass on! pass… Never so white as the throat of my…
The hills hang woods around, where… Dark, breezy boughs of beech-trees… Crisp with the brittle hulls of la… The water hums one bar there; and… Of gold lies steady where the trai…
So Love is dead, the Love we knew… And in the sorrow of our hearts’ h… A lute lies broken and a flower fa… Love’s house stands empty and his… Lone in dim places, where sweet vo…
From the hills and far away All the long, warm summer day Comes the wind and seems to say: ‘Come, oh, come! and let us go Where the meadows bend and blow,
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,’
Wherein is it so beautiful? In all things dim and all things c… In silence, that is built of leave… And wind and spray of waterfall; And, golden as the half-ripe sheav…
The wind that breathes of columbin… And celandines that crowd the rock… That shakes the balsam of the pine… With laughter from his airy locks, Stops at my city door and knocks.
I heard the wind last night that c… Like some old skipper’s ghost outs… And on the roof the rain that tram… Like feet of seamen on a deck stor… Against the pane the Night with s…
There is a place among the Cape A… That looks from fir-dark summits o… Whose surging sapphire changes con… Beneath deep heavens, Morning win… With golden calm, or sunset citade…
The mellow smell of hollyhocks And marigolds and pinks and phlox Blends with the homely garden scen… Of onions, silvering into rods; Of peppers, scarlet with their pod…
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,
The roses mourn for her who sleeps Within the tomb; For her each lily-flower weeps Dew and perfume. In each neglected flower-bed
Between the darkness and the day As, lost in doubt, I went my way, I met a shape, as faint as fair, With star-like blossoms in its hai… Its body, which the moon shone thr…
