#AmericanWriters #Epigram
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…
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers… And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest!
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,…
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
With favoring winds, o’er sunlit s… We sailed for the Hesperides, The land where golden apples grow; But that, ah! that was long ago. How far, since then, the ocean str…
Eyes so tristful, eyes so tristful… Heart so full of care and cumber, I was lapped in rest and slumber, Ye have made me wakeful, wistful! In this life of labor endless
Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senes… Et fugiunt freno non remorante die… Ovid, Fastorum, Lib. vi. 'O Cæsar, we who are about to die Salute you! ' was the gladiators’…
A vision as of crowded city street… With human life in endless overflo… Thunder of thoroughfares; trumpets… To battle; clamor, in obscure retr… Of sailors landed from their ancho…
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…
This is the Arsenal. From floor… Like a huge organ, rise the burnis… But front their silent pipes no an… Startles the villages with strange… Ah! what a sound will rise, how wi…
The jolly skipper paused awhile, And then again began; ‘There is a Spectre Ship,’ quoth… ‘A ship of the Dead that sails th… And is called the Carmilhan.
Oh the long and dreary Winter! Oh the cold and cruel Winter! Ever thicker, thicker, thicker Froze the ice on lake and river, Ever deeper, deeper, deeper
Where are the Poets, unto whom be… The Olympian heights; whose singi… Straight to the mark, and not from… But with the utmost tension of the… Where are the stately argosies of…
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,
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…