#AmericanWriters
The old house by the lindens Stood silent in the shade, And on the gravelled pathway The light and shadow played. I saw the nursery windows
When I compare What I have lost with what I have… What I have missed with what atta… Little room do I find for pride. I am aware
Thus then, much care—worn, The son of Healfden Sorrowed evermore, Nor might the prudent hero His woes avert.
Still through Egypt’s desert plac… Flows the lordly Nile, From its banks the great stone fac… Gaze with patient smile. Still the pyramids imperious
Annie of Tharaw, my true love of… She is my life, and my goods, and… Annie of Tharaw, her heart once a… To me has surrendered in joy and i… Annie of Tharaw, my riches, my go…
FAR in the West there lies a des… Lift, through perpetual snows, the… Down from their jagged, deep ravin… Opens a passage rude to the wheels… Westward the Oregon flows and the…
Where, from the eye of day, The dark and silent river Pursues through tangled woods a wa… O’er which the tall trees quiver; The silver mist, that breaks
Out of childhood into manhood Now had grown my Hiawatha, Skilled in all the craft of hunter… Learned in all the lore of old men… In all youthful sports and pastime…
Soon as the story reached its end, One, over eager to commend, Crowned it with injudicious praise… And then the voice of blame found… And fanned the embers of dissent
‘Hast thou seen that lordly castle… That Castle by the Sea? Golden and red above it The clouds float gorgeously. ’And fain it would stoop downward
When descends on the Atlantic The gigantic Storm—wind of the equinox, Landward in his wrath he scourges The toiling surges,
In the market-place of Bruges sta… Thrice consumed and thrice rebuild… As the summer morn was breaking, o… And the world through off the dark… Thick with towns and hamlets studd…
In the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city, As the evening shades descended, Low and loud and sweetly blended, Low at times and loud at times,
“I heard the bells on Christmas D… Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good—will to me…
Well pleased all listened to the t… That drew, the Student said, its… And marrow from the ancient myth Of some one with an iron flail; Or that portentous Man of Brass