#AmericanWriters
The first rose on my rose-tree Budded, bloomed, and shattered, During sad days when to me Nothing mattered. Grief of grief has drained me clea…
When we are old and these rejoicin… Are frosty channels to a muted str… And out of all our burning their r… No feeblest spark to fire us, even… This be our solace: that it was no…
God had called us, and we came; Our loved Earth to ashes left; Heaven was a neighbor’s house, Open to us, bereft. Gay the lights of Heaven showed,
She is neither pink nor pale, And she never will be all mine; She learned her hands in a fairy-t… And her mouth on a valentine. She has more hair than she needs;
Man alive, that mournst thy lot, Desiring what thou hast not got, Money, beauty, love, what not; Deeming it blesseder to be A rotted man, than live to see
Just a rainy day or two In a windy tower, That was all I had of you— Saving half an hour. Marred by greeting passing groups
Was it for this I uttered prayers… And sobbed and cursed and kicked t… That now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight…
O world, I cannot hold thee close… Thy winds, thy wide grey skies! Thy mists that roll and rise! Thy woods this autumn day, that ac… And all but cry with colour! That…
Here is a wound that never will he… Being wrought not of a dearness an… But of a love turned ashes and the… Gone out of beauty; never again wi… The grass on that scarred acre, th…
Think not, not for a moment let yo… Wearied with thinking, doze upon t… That the work’s done and the long… And beauty, since 'tis paid for, c… If in the moonlight from the silen…
Cherish you then the hope I shall… At length, my lord, Pieria?—put a… For your so passing sake, this mou… These mortal bones against my body… For all the puny fever and frail s…
Set the foot down with distrust up… world—it is thin. Moles are at work beneath us; they… sub-soil With separate chambers; which at a…
I know I might have lived in such… As to have suffered only pain: Loving not man nor dog; Not money, even; feeling Toothache perhaps, but never more…
We talk of taxes, and I call you… Well, such you are,—but well enoug… How thick about us root, how rankl… Those subtle weeds no man has need… That flourish through neglect, and…
Boys and girls that held her dear, Do your weeping now; All you loved of her lies here. Brought to earth the arrogant brow… And the withering tongue