#AmericanWriters
Simon Danz has come home again, From cruising about with his bucca… He has singed the beard of the Ki… And carried away the Dean of Jaen And sold him in Algiers.
Will ever the dear days come back… Those days of June, when lilacs w… And bluebirds sang their sonnets i… Of leaves that roofed them in from… I know not; but a presence will re…
Stay, stay at home, my heart, and… Home-keeping hearts are happiest, For those that wander they know no… Are full of trouble and full of ca… To stay at home is best.
When the hours of Day are numbere… And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumber… To a holy, calm delight; Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death; Wild and gast blew the blast, And the east—wind was his breath. His lordly ships of ice
Nowhere such a devious stream, Save in fancy or in dream, Winding slow through bush and brak… Links together lake and lake. Walled with woods or sandy shelf,
I have a vague remembrance Of a story, that is told In some ancient Spanish legend Or chronicle of old. It was when brave King Sanchez
At The Consecration Of Pulaski’… When the dying flame of day Through the chancel shot its ray, Far the glimmering tapers shed Faint light on the cowléd head;
No hay pajaros en los nidos de ant… Spanish Proverb The sun is bright,—the air is clea… The darting swallows soar and sing… And from the stately elms I hear
No sound of wheels or hoof—beat br… The silence of the summer day, As by the loveliest of all lakes I while the idle hours away. I pace the leafy colonnade,
Until we meet again! That is the… Of the familiar words, that men re… At parting in the street. Ah yes, till then! but when death… Rends us asunder, with what ceasel…
(Canto XXIII.) Even as a bird, ‘mid the beloved l… Quiet upon the nest of her sweet b… Throughout the night, that hideth… Who, that she may behold their lon…
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,
I leave you, ye cold mountain chai… Dwelling of warriors stark and fro… You, may these eyes behold no more… Rave on the horizon of our plains. Vanish, ye frightful, gloomy views…
Sweet the memory is to me Of a land beyond the sea, Where the waves and mountains meet… Where amid her mulberry—trees Sits Amalfi in the heat,
