Epigraph to Lustra
#AmericanWriters
Gladstone was still respected, When John Ruskin produced ‘King’s Treasuries’; Swinburne And Rossetti still abused. Foetid Buchanan lifted up his voi…
Aye you’re a man that! ye old mesm… Tyin’ your meanin’ in seventy swad… One must of needs be a hang’d earl… To catch you at worm turning. Hol… ‘Cat’s i’ the water butt!' Though…
There’s a regret So grinding, so immitigably sad, Remorse thereby feels tolerant, ev… Do you not know it yet? For deeds undone
The thought of what America would… If the Classics had a wide circul… Troubles my sleep, The thought of what America, The thought of what America,
“Time’s bitter flood”! Oh, that’s… But where’s the old friend hasn’t… Or slacked his hand-grip when you… I know your circle and can fairly… What you have kept and what you’ve…
The gods are dead? Perhaps they a… Living at least in Lempriere unde… The wise, the fair, the awful, the… Are one and all. I like to think,… In some still land of lilacs and t…
The sands are alive with sunshine, The bathers lounge and throng, And out in the bay a bugle Is lilting a gallant song. The clouds go racing eastward,
I had been seen in the shade, recu… The water dripping from Belleroph… Alba, your kings, and the realm yo… have constructed with such industr… Shall be yawned out on my lyre wit…
O generation of the thoroughly smu… and the thoroughly uncomfortable, I have seen fishermen picknicking… I have seen them with untidy famil… I have seen their smiles full of t…
BE in me as the eternal moods of the bleak wind, and not As transient things are— gaiety of flowers. Have me in the strong loneliness
Chiming a dream by the way With ocean’s rapture and roar, I met a maiden to-day Walking alone on the shore: Walking in maiden wise,
Because a lady asks me, I would t… Of an affect that comes often and… And is so overweening; Love by na… E’en its deniers can now hear the… I for the nonce to them that know…
As a bathtub lined with white porc… When the hot water gives out or go… So is the slow cooling of our chiv… O my much praised but-not-altogeth…
Under a stagnant sky, Gloom out of gloom uncoiling into… The River, jaded and forlorn, Welters and wanders wearily—wretch… Yet in and out among the ribs
Candidia has taken a new lover And three poets are gone into mour… The first has written a long elegy… To ‘Chloris chaste and cold,’ his… The second has written a sonnet