#AmericanWriters
Short of stature, large of limb, Burly face and russet beard, All the women stared at him, When in Iceland he appeared. ‘Look!’ they said,
Svend Dyring he rideth adown the… I myself was young! There he hath wooed him so winsome… Fair words gladden so many a heart… Together were they for seven years…
A fleet with flags arrayed Sailed from the port of Brest, And the Admiral’s ship displayed The signal: ‘Steer southwest.’ For this Admiral D’Anville
I have read, in some old, marvello… Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres p… Beleaguered the walls of Prague. Beside the Moldau’s rushing strea…
There is a quiet spirit in these w… That dwells where’er the gentle so… Where, underneath the white-thorn,… The wild flowers bloom, or, kissin… The leaves above their sunny palms…
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…
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…
She dwells by Great Kenhawa’s sid… In valleys green and cool; And all her hope and all her pride Are in the village school. Her soul, like the transparent air
The rising moon has hid the stars; Her level rays, like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, With shadows brown between. And silver white the river gleams,
Leafless are the trees; their purp… Spread themselves abroad, like ree… Rising silent In the Red Sea of the winter suns… From the hundred chimneys of the v…
The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village
A little bird in the air Is singing of Thyri the fair, The sister of Svend the Dane; And the song of the garrulous bird In the streets of the town is hear…
Downward through the evening twili… In the days that are forgotten, In the unremembered ages, From the full moon fell Nokomis, Fell the beautiful Nokomis,
When descends on the Atlantic The gigantic Storm—wind of the equinox, Landward in his wrath he scourges The toiling surges,
On the gray sea-sands King Olaf stands, Northward and seaward He points with his hands. With eddy and whirl