#AmericanWriters #Epigram
The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through clouds like ashes
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 Traveller, stay thy weary feet; Drink of this fountain, pure and s… It flows for rich and poor the sam… Then go thy way, remembering still The wayside well beneath the hill,
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…
I stand beneath the tree, whose br… Thy western window, Chapel of St.… And hear its leaves repeat their b… On him, whose hand thy stones memo… Then I remember one of whom was s…
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.
JANUARY Janus am I; oldest of potentates; Forward I look, and backward, and… I count, as god of avenues and gat… The years that through my portals…
An old man in a lodge within a par… The chamber walls depicted all aro… With portraitures of huntsman, haw… And the hurt deer. He listeneth t… Whose song comes with the sunshine…
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…
Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me As I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, All my dreams, come back to me. Sails of silk and ropes of sandal,
I am poor and old and blind; The sun burns me, and the wind Blows through the city gate And covers me with dust From the wheels of the august
Come, old friend! sit down and lis… From the pitcher, placed between u… How the waters laugh and glisten In the head of old Silenus! Old Silenus, bloated, drunken,
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,
Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of St… Sail on, O Union, strong and grea… Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years… Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
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…