#AmericanWriters #Epigram
When I compare What I have lost with what I have… What I have missed with what atta… Little room do I find for pride. I am aware
'Hads’t thou stayed, I must have… That is what the Vision said. In his chamber all alone, Kneeling on the floor of stone, Prayed the Monk in deep contritio…
When the warm sun, that brings Seed-time and harvest, has returne… 'T is sweet to visit the still woo… The first flower of the plain. I love the season well,
It was fifty years ago In the pleasant month of May, In the beautiful Pays de Vaud, A child in its cradle lay. And Nature, the old nurse, took
‘Build me straight, O worthy Mast… Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel… That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestl… The merchant’s word
I said unto myself, if I were dea… What would befall these children?… Their fate, who now are looking up… For help and furtherance? Their l… Would be a volume wherein I have…
By his evening fire the artist Pondered o’er his secret shame; Baffled, weary, and disheartened, Still he mused, and dreamed of fam… 'T was an image of the Virgin
‘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,—
Love, love, what wilt thou with th… Naught see I fixed or sure in the… I do not know thee,—nor what deeds… Love, love, what wilt thou with th… Naught see I fixed or sure in the…
I know a maiden fair to see, Take care! She can both false and friendly be… Beware! Beware! Trust her not,
All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low;
Olger the Dane and Desiderio, King of the Lombards, on a lofty… Stood gazing northward o’er the ro… League after league of harvests, t… Of the snow-crested Alps, and saw…
In the Valley of the Vire Still is seen an ancient mill, With its gables quaint and queer, And beneath the window-sill, On the stone,
Lo! in the paintedoriel of the We… Whose panes the sunken sun incarna… Like a fair lady at her casement,… The evening star, the star of love… And then anon she doth herself div…
The twilight is sad and cloudy, The wind blows wild and free, And like the wings of sea—birds Flash the white caps of the sea. But in the fisherman’s cottage