#AmericanWriters
‘T was Fiddledeedee who put to se… With a rollicking buccaneer Bumbl… An acorn-cup was their hollow boat A rakish craft was their acorn-boa… And their sail a butterfly’s wing;
Sunflowers wither and lilies die, Poppies are pods of seeds; The first red leaves on the pathwa… Like blood of a heart that bleeds. Weary alway will it be to-day,
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…
She came through shade and shine, By scarlet trumpetvine And fragrant buttonbush, That heaped the wayside hush And oh!
The roses mourn for her who sleeps Within the tomb; For her each lily-flower weeps Dew and perfume. In each neglected flower-bed
A Log-Hut in the solitude, A clapboard roof to rest beneath! This side, the shadow-haunted wood… That side, the sunlight-haunted he… At daybreak Morn shall come to me
With moon-white hearts that held a… I gathered wild-flowers in a dream… And shaped a woman, whose sweet bl… Was odour of the wildwood bud. From dew, the starlight arrowed th…
Why have you come? to see me in my… A thing to spit on, to despise and… And then to ask me! You, by whom… And then cast by, like some vile r… What shelter could you give me, no…
What will you send her, What will you tell her, That shall unbend her, That shall compel her? Love, that shall fold her
IN her vast church of glimmering… Gray-stoled from feet to chin, Her dark locks beaded with the dew… The nun-like dawn comes in: At once the hills put on their spe…
THERE is no rhyme that is half s… As the song of the wind in the rip… There is no metre that ’s half so… As the lilt of the brook under roc… And the loveliest lyric I ever he…
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…
It seemed the listening forest hel… Before some vague and unapparent f… Of fear, approaching with the wing… On the impending storm. Above the hills, big, bellying clo…
Again, in dreams, the veteran hear… The bugle and the drum; Again the boom of battle nears, Again the bullets hum: Again he mounts, again he cheers,
In some glad way I know thereof: A garden glows down in my heart, Wherein I meet and often part With many an ancient tale of love A Romeo garden, banked with bloom…