#AmericanWriters #Epigram
All praised the Legend more or le… Some liked the moral, some the ver… Some thought it better, and some w… Than other legends of the past; Until, with ill-concealed distress
Under Mount Etna he lies, It is slumber, it is not death; For he struggles at times to arise… And above him the lurid skies Are hot with his fiery breath.
One summer morning, when the sun w… Weary with labor in his garden-plo… On a rude bench beneath his cottag… Ser Federigo sat among the leaves Of a huge vine, that, with its arm…
Warm and still is the summer night… As here by the river’s brink I wa… White overhead are the stars, and… The glimmering lamps on the hillsi… Silent are all the sounds of day;
There sat one day in quiet, By an alehouse on the Rhine, Four hale and hearty fellows, And drank the precious wine. The landlord’s daughter filled the…
Into the city of Kambalu, By the road that leadeth to Ispah… At the head of his dusty caravan, Laden with treasure from realms af… Baldacca and Kelat and Kandahar,
I sat by my window one night, And watched how the stars grew hig… And the earth and skies were a spl… To a sober and musing eye. From heaven the silver moon shone…
A gentle boy, with soft and silken… A dreamy boy, with brown and tende… A castle-builder, with his wooden… And towers that touch imaginary sk… A fearless rider on his father’s k…
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,
Never stoops the soaring vulture On his quarry in the desert, On the sick or wounded bison, But another vulture, watching From his high aerial look-out,
Oft I remember those I have known In other days, to whom my heart wa… As by a magnet, and who are not de… But absent, and their memories ove… With other thoughts and troubles o…
Down from yon distant mountain hei… The brooklet flows through the vil… A boy comes forth to wash his hand… Washing, yes washing, there he sta… In the water cool and sweet.
EVEN as the Blessed, at the fina… Shall rise up quickened, each one… Wearing again the garments of the… So, upon that celestial chariot, A hundred rose ad vocem tanti seni…
Safe at anchor in Drontheim bay King Olaf’s fleet assembled lay, And, striped with white and blue, Downward fluttered sail and banner… As alights the screaming lanner;
And now along the horizon’s edge Mountains of cloud uprose, Black as with forests underneath, Above their sharp and jagged teeth Were white as drifted snows.