#AmericanWriters
There was a time when I was very… When my whole frame was but an ell… Sweetly, as I recall it, tears do… And therefore I recall it with de… I sported in my tender mother’s ar…
Oft have I seen at some cathedral… A laborer, pausing in the dust and… Lay down his burden, and with reve… Enter, and cross himself, and on t… Kneel to repeat his paternoster o’…
Othere, the old sea-captain, Who dwelt in Helgoland, To King Alfred, the Lover of Tru… Brought a snow-white walrus-tooth, Which he held in his brown right h…
The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew c… Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the t… And the tide rises, the tide falls…
Never stoops the soaring vulture On his quarry in the desert, On the sick or wounded bison, But another vulture, watching From his high aerial look-out,
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,
The summer sun is sinking low; Only the tree-tops redden and glow… Only the weathercock on the spire Of the neighboring church is a fla… All is in shadow below.
Whene’er a noble deed is wrought, Whene’er is spoken a noble thought… Our hearts, in glad surprise, To higher levels rise. The tidal wave of deeper souls
I heard the bells on Christmas Da… Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to me…
When the warm sun, that brings Seed-time and harvest, has returne… 'T is sweet to visit the still woo… The first flower of the plain. I love the season well,
Allah gives light in darkness, Allah gives rest in pain, Cheeks that are white with weeping Allah paints red again. The flowers and the blossoms withe…
The twilight is sad and cloudy, The wind blows wild and free, And like the wings of sea—birds Flash the white caps of the sea. But in the fisherman’s cottage
Pleasant it was, when woods were g… And winds were soft and low, To lie amid some sylvan scene. Where, the long drooping boughs be… Shadows dark and sunlight sheen
They made the warrior’s grave besi… The dashing of his native time: And there was mourning in the glen… The strong wail of a thousand men— O’er him thus fallen in his pride,
You shall hear how Hiawatha Prayed and fasted in the forest, Not for greater skill in hunting, Not for greater craft in fishing, Not for triumphs in the battle,