#AmericanWriters #PoemsOfPower
We must not force events, but rath… The heart soil ready for their com… The earth spreads carpets for the… Or, with the strengthening tonic o… Prepares for Winter. Should a Ju…
A Tribute To The Policemen Of E… Here in my cosy corner, Before a blazing log, I’m thinking of cold London Wrapped in its killing fog;
They stood at the garden gate. By the lifting of a lid She might have read her fate In a little thing he did. He plucked a beautiful flower,
In the warm yellow smile of the mo… She stands at the lattice pane, And watches the strong young binde… Stride down to the fields of grain… And she counts them over and over
The uses of sorrow I comprehend Better and better at each year’s e… Deeper and deeper I seem to see Why and wherefore it has to be. Only after the dark, wet days
I know it is early morning, And hope is calling aloud, And your heart is afire with Yout… To hurry along with the crowd. But linger a bit by the roadside,
What is the end of each man’s toil… Brother, O Brother? A handful of dust in a bit of soil… His name forgotten as centuries ro… Though blazoned to-day on Glory’s…
All through the night time, and al… Dreading the morning and dreading… Nearer and nearer we drift to the… Season of beauty and season of bli… Leaves on the linden, and sun on t…
In a mansion grand, just over the… Lives bonny, beautiful Dell; You may have heard of this lady ga… For she is a famous belle. I live in a low cot opposite,
The queerest languages known to ma… Sanscrit, Hebrew, Hindoostan, Are all translated and made as fre… And comprehensive as A B C. Yet the oldest language talked or…
We will lay our summer away, my fr… So tenderly lay it away. It was bright and sweet to the ver… Like one long, golden day. Nothing sweeter could come to me,
Out over childhood’s borders, Manhood’s brave banners unfurled, Weighed down with precepts and ord… A boy has gone into the world. Nobody thinks it pathetic–
I saw them sitting in the shade; The long green vines hung over, But could not hide the gold-haired… And Earl, my dark-eyed lover. His arm was clasped so close, so c…
When the soft sweet wind o’ the so… I dwelt in the light of a dark bro… And out where the robin sang his s… We lived and loved, while the days… In the sweet, sweet eves, when the…
GOOD-BY to the cradle, the dear… The rude hand of Progress has thr… No more to its motion, o’er Sleep… Our play-weary wayfarers peacefull… No more by the rhythm of slow-movi…