#AmericanWriters
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:
A disc of violet blue, Rimmed with a thorn of fire, The new moon hangs in a sky of dew… And under the vines, where the sun… Is blent with blossoms, first one,…
Deep in the hollow wood he found a… Winding unto a water, dim and gray… Grayer and dimmer than the break o… By which a wildrose blossomed; flo… Leaning above its image hour on ho…
Ah me! I shall not waken soon From dreams of such divinity! A spirit singing 'neath the moon To me. Wild sea-spray driven of the storm
Squat-nosed and broad, of big and… A tavern visage, apoplexy haunts, All pimple-puffed: the Falstaff-l… Of fat debauchery, whose veined ch… A flabby purple: rusty-spurred he…
You have forgot: it once was red With life, this rose, to which you… When, there in happy days gone by, You plucked it, on my breast to li… ‘Sleep there, O rose! how sweet a…
THE old house leans upon a tree Like some old man upon a staff: The night wind in its ancient porc… Sounds like a hollow laugh. The heaven is wrapped in flying cl…
Rocks, trees and rocks; and down a… The murmuring ooze and trickle of… Through bushes, where the mountain… A gleaming cairngorm where the sha… And one wild road winds like a saf…
I have heard the wind on a winter’… When the snow-cold moon looked ici… My window’s flickering firelight, Where the frost his witchery drew: I have heard the wind on a winter’…
There’s a scent of pungent wood sm… And a jack-o’-lantern glare, a wil… ’Tis the brush that burns and smou… The old New England ways, When Autumn plants her gipsy tent…
I CAME upon a pool that shone, Clear, emerald-like, among the hil… That seemed old wizards round a st… Of magic that a vision thrills. And as I leaned and looked, it se…
The source of laughter lies so nea… And pain to rapture, that one foun… From forth the two Love’s; in who… The image of the Heaven each man…
LOW, weed-climbed cliffs, o’er wh… The sea-mists swoon: Wind-twisted pines, through which… Goes winging slow: Dim fields, the sower never sows,
Last night it was Hallowe’en. Darkest night I’ve ever seen. And the boy next door, I thought, Would be glad to know of this Jack-o’-lantern father brought
Here where the season turns the la… Among the fields our feet have kno… When we were children who would la… Glad little playmates of the wind… Before came toil and care and year…