#AmericanWriters #Epigram
JANUARY Janus am I; oldest of potentates; Forward I look, and backward, and… I count, as god of avenues and gat… The years that through my portals…
THIS is the forest primeval. The… Bearded with moss, and in garments… Stand like Druids of eld, with vo… Stand like harpers hoar, with bear… Loud from its rocky caverns, the d…
Northward over Drontheim, Flew the clamorous sea-gulls, Sang the lark and linnet From the meadows green; Weeping in her chamber,
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…
He ended: and a kind of spell Upon the silent listeners fell. His solemn manner and his words Had touched the deep, mysterious c… That vibrate in each human breast
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…
This is the forest primeval. The… Bearded with moss, and in garments… Stand like Druids of eld, with vo… Stand like harpers hoar, with bear… Loud from its rocky caverns, the d…
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…
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,
‘Thora of Rimol! hide me! hide me… Danger and shame and death betide… For Olaf the King is hunting me d… Through field and forest, through… Thus cried Jarl Hakon
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…
Saint Augustine! well hast thou s… That of our vices we can frame A ladder, if we will but tread Beneath our feet each deed of sham… All common things, each day’s even…
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
Love, love, what wilt thou with th… Naught see I fixed or sure in the… I do not know thee,—nor what deeds… Love, love, what wilt thou with th… Naught see I fixed or sure in the…
The rocky ledge runs far into the… And on its outer point, some miles… The Lighthouse lifts its massive… A pillar of fire by night, of clou… Even at this distance I can see t…