#AmericanWriters #Epigram
Filled is Life’s goblet to the br… And though my eyes with tears are… I see its sparkling bubbles swim, And chant a melancholy hymn With solemn voice and slow.
Once on a time, some centuries ago… In the hot sunshine two Francisca… Wended their weary way, with foots… Back to their convent, whose white… Gleamed on the hillside like a pat…
In the Old Colony days, in Plymo… To and fro in a room of his simple… Clad in doublet and hose, and boot… Strode, with a martial air, Miles… Buried in thought he seemed, with…
In the market—place of Bruges sta… Thrice consumed and thrice rebuild… town. As the summer morn was breaking, o… And the world threw off the darkne…
THE WORKSHOP OF HEPHAES… HEPHAESTUS (standing before t… Not fashioned out of gold, like H… Nor forged of iron like the thunde… Of Zeus omnipotent, or other work…
I heard the trailing garments of t… Sweep through her marble halls! I saw her sable skirts all fringed… From the celestial walls! I felt her presence, by its spell…
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…
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,
If thou art sleeping, maiden, Awake, and open thy door: 'Tis the break of day, and we must… O’er meadow, and mount, and moor. Wait not to find thy slippers,
From the outskirts of the town Where of old the mile—stone stood, Now a stranger, looking down I behold the shadowy crown Of the dark and haunted wood.
Heard a voice, that cried, “Balder the Beautiful Is dead, is dead!” And through the misty air Passed like the mournful cry
The holiest of all holidays are th… Kept by ourselves in silence and a… The secret anniversaries of the he… When the full river of feeling ove… The happy days unclouded to their…
BENT like a laboring oar, that t… Bent, but not broken, by age was t… Shocks of yellow hair, like the si… Over his shoulders; his forehead w… Sat astride on his nose, with a lo…
THE SPIRE OF STRASBU… Night and storm. LUCIFER, with… Air, trying to tear down the Cros… _Lucifer._ HASTEN! hasten! O ye spirits!
Nine sisters, beautiful in form an… Came from their convent on the shi… Of Pierus, the mountain of deligh… To dwell among the people at its b… Then seemed the world to change.…