#AmericanWriters #Epigram
‘Now that is after my own heart,’ The Poet cried; 'one understands Your swarthy hero Scanderbeg, Gauntlet on hand and boot on leg, And skilled in every warlike art,
Nothing the greatest artist can co… That every marble block doth not c… Within itself; and only its design The hand that follows intellect ca… The ill I flee, the good that I b…
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…
O let the soul her slumbers break, Let thought be quickened, and awak… Awake to see How soon this life is past and gon… And death comes softly stealing on…
Can it be the sun descending O’er the level plain of water? Or the Red Swan floating, flying, Wounded by the magic arrow, Staining all the waves with crimso…
Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies! Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses, wreathed in one,
Black shadows fall From the lindens tall, That lift aloft their massive wall Against the southern sky; And from the realms
The course of my long life hath re… In fragile bark o’er a tempestuous… The common harbor, where must rend… Account of all the actions of the… The impassioned phantasy, that, va…
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…
At Drontheim, Olaf the King Heard the bells of Yule-tide ring… As he sat in his banquet-hall, Drinking the nut-brown ale, With his bearded Berserks hale
We sat within the farm—house old, Whose windows, looking o’er the ba… Gave to the sea—breeze damp and co… An easy entrance, night and day. Not far away we saw the port,
I know a maiden fair to see, Take care! She can both false and friendly be… Beware! Beware! Trust her not,
This is the place. Stand still, m… Let me review the scene, And summon from the shadowy Past The forms that once have been. The Past and Present here unite
Once upon Iceland’s solitary stra… A poet wandered with his book and… Seeking some final word, some swee… Wherewith to close the volume in h… The billows rolled and plunged upo…
“I heard the bells on Christmas D… Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good—will to me…