#AmericanWriters #Epigram
To gallop off to town post-haste, So oft, the times I cannot tell; To do vile deed, nor feel disgrace… Friar Lubin will do it well. But a sober life to lead,
How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain!
A handful of red sand, from the ho… Of Arab deserts brought, Within this glass becomes the spy… The minister of Thought. How many weary centuries has it be…
‘The rivers rush into the sea, By castle and town they go; The winds behind them merrily Their noisy trumpets blow. ’The clouds are passing far and hi…
Have I dreamed? or was it real, What I saw as in a vision, When to marches hymeneal In the land of the Ideal Moved my thought o’er Fields Elys…
Allah gives light in darkness, Allah gives rest in pain, Cheeks that are white with weeping Allah paints red again. The flowers and the blossoms withe…
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.
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;
Witlaf, a king of the Saxons, Ere yet his last he breathed, To the merry monks of Croyland His drinking-horn bequeathed,— That, whenever they sat at their r…
Out of the bosom of the Air Out of the cloud-folds of her garm… Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow
Nowhere such a devious stream, Save in fancy or in dream, Winding slow through bush and brak… Links together lake and lake. Walled with woods or sandy shelf,
Steer, bold mariner, on! albeit wi… And the steersman drop idly his ha… Ever, ever to westward! There mus… If it but lie distinct, luminous l… Trust to the God that leads thee,…
O, how blest are ye whose toils ar… Who, through death, have unto God… Ye have arisen From the cares which keep us still… We are still as in a dungeon livin…
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…
When the summer fields are mown, When the birds are fledged and flo… And the dry leaves strew the path; With the falling of the snow, With the cawing of the crow,