#AmericanWriters
Over heaven clouds are drifted; In the trees the wind-witch cries; By her sieve the rain is sifted, And the clouds at times are rifted By her mad broom as she flies.
Be glad, just for to-day! O heart, be glad! Cast all your cares away! Doff all that 's sad! Put of your garments gray
At the moon’s down-going let it be On the quarry hill with its one gn… The red-rock road of the underbrus… Where the woman came through the s… The sumac high and the elder thick…
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…
This is the place where visions co… Dreams of the trees and flowers, g… Where the white moon and the pale… Sitting with Legend and with dim… This is the place where all the si…
The cuckoo-sorrel paints with pink The green page of the meadow-land Around a pool where thrushes drink As from a hollowed hand. A hill, long-haired with leathered…
O voice of ecstasy and lyric pain, Divinely throated and divinely hea… Among old England’s songsters! Sp… Haunting the woods of song with ra… In whose wild music Love is born…
Within the soul are throned two po… One, Love; one, Hate. Begot of t… And veiled between, a presence tow… The shadowy keeper of the keys. With wild command or calm persuasi…
Mother of visions, with lineaments… Breathed on the eyelids of love by… Secretly, sweetly, O presence of… Thou comest mysterious, In beauty imperious,
A pond of filth a sewer flows into… Around whose edge the evil ragweed… Poison in every breath; and, cloud… Insects that sing and sting, the p… All hideousness, from every street…
All day the primroses have thought… Their golden heads close-haremed f… All day the mystic moonflowers sil… Veiled snowy faces, that no bee mi… Or butterfly that, weighed with po…
I Heard a reed among the hills, A woodland reed of music where, Like madcap children, ran the rill… Boisterous, with wildly flowing ha… I knew it for a pipe the Spring
I Heard his step upon the moss; I glimpsed his shadow in the strea… And thrice I saw the brambles tos… Wherein he vanished like a dream. A great beech aimed a giant stroke
‘We have the receipt of fern seed:… —HENRY IV And we have met but twice or thric… Three times enough to make me love… I praised your hair once; then you…
Ere wild-haws, looming in the gloo… Build bolted drifts of breezy bloo… And in the whistling hollow there The red-bud bends, as brown and ba… As buxom Roxy’s up-stripped arm;