#AmericanWriters
Ah, Love! Perjured, false, treacherous Love… Enemy Of all that mankind may not rue! Most untrue
The Landlord ended thus his tale, Then rising took down from its nai… The sword that hung there, dim wit… And cleaving to its sheath with ru… And said, ‘This sword was in the…
On sunny slope and beechen swell, The shadowed light of evening fell… And, where the maple’s leaf was br… With soft and silent lapse came do… The glory, that the wood receives,
Night. PRINCE HENRY _wandering alone… _Prince Henry._ Still is the nigh… Has died away from the empty stree… And like an artisan, bending down
Black shadows fall From the lindens tall, That lift aloft their massive wall Against the southern sky; And from the realms
Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud—folds of her garm… Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest—fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow
Once on a time, some centuries ago… In the hot sunshine two Francisca… Wended their weary way, with foots… Back to their convent, whose white… Gleamed on the hillside like a pat…
To gallop off to town post-haste, So oft, the times I cannot tell; To do vile deed, nor feel disgrace… Friar Lubin will do it well. But a sober life to lead,
When the dying flame of day Through the chancel shot its ray, Far the glimmering tapers shed Faint light on the cowléd head; And the censer burning swung,
This song of mine Is a Song of the Vine, To be sung by the glowing embers Of wayside inns, When the rain begins
It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old. Birds are darting through the air,
By the shore of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, At the doorway of his wigwam, In the pleasant Summer morning, Hiawatha stood and waited.
One day, Haroun Al Raschid read A book wherein the poet said:— “Where are the kings, and where th… Of those who once the world posses… ”They’re gone with all their pomp…
O, how blest are ye whose toils ar… Who, through death, have unto God… Ye have arisen From the cares which keep us still… We are still as in a dungeon livin…
'Hads’t thou stayed, I must have… That is what the Vision said. In his chamber all alone, Kneeling on the floor of stone, Prayed the Monk in deep contritio…