#AmericanWriters #Epigram
Becalmed upon the sea of Thought, Still unattained the land it sough… My mind, with loosely-hanging sail… Lies waiting the auspicious gales. On either side, behind, before,
Night rests in beauty on Mont Alt… Beneath its shade the beauteous A… In vallombrosa’s bosom, and dark t… Bend with a calm and quiet shadow… Upon the beauty of that silent riv…
This song of mine Is a Song of the Vine, To be sung by the glowing embers Of wayside inns, When the rain begins
As a pale phantom with a lamp Ascends some ruin’s haunted stair, So glides the moon along the damp Mysterious chambers of the air. Now hidden in cloud, and now revea…
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.
An angel with a radiant face, Above a cradle bent to look, Seemed his own image there to trac… As in the waters of a brook. ‘Dear child! who me resemblest so,…
Four limpid lakes,—four Naiades Or sylvan deities are these, In flowing robes of azure dressed; Four lovely handmaids, that uphold Their shining mirrors, rimmed with…
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…
‘I thought before your tale began,… The Student murmured, ‘we should… Some legend written by Judah Rav In his Gemara of Babylon; Or something from the Gulistan,—
The shades of night were falling f… As through an Alpine village pass… A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and i… A banner with the strange device, Excelsior!
Something the heart must have to c… Must love and joy and sorrow learn… Something with passion clasp, or p… And in itself to ashes burn. So to this child my heart is cling…
I am the God Thor, I am the War God, I am the Thunderer! Here in my Northland, My fastness and fortress,
NOW had the season returned, when… And the retreating sun the sign of… Birds of passage sailed through th… Desolate northern bays to the shor… Harvests were gathered in; and wil…
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…
Torrent of light and river of the… Along whose bed the glimmering sta… Like gold and silver sands in some… Where mountain streams have left t… The Spaniard sees in thee the pat…