#AmericanWriters #PoemsOfPower
What are these nameless mysteries, These subtleties of life and death… That bring before our spirit eyes The loved and lost; or, like a bre… Of lightest air, will touch the ch…
In Vanity Fair, as we bow and smi… As we talk of the opera after the… As we chat of fashion and fad and… We know we are playing a part toge… You know that the mirth she wears,…
Soar not too high, O bird of Hop… Because the skies are fair; The tempest may come on apace And overcome thee there. When far above the mountain tops
England, father and mother in one, Look on your stalwart son. Sturdy and strong, with the valour… Where is another so lusty? Coated and mailed, with the armour…
I own the charms of lovely Nature… In human nature more delight I fi… Though sweet the murmuring voices… I much prefer the voices of my kin… I like the roar of cities. In the…
GOOD-BYE to the cradle, the dea… The rude hand of Progress has thr… No more to its motion o’er sleep’s… Our play-weary wayfarers peacefull… No more by the rhythm of slow-movi…
In the journey of life, as we trav… To the mystical goal that is hidde… You may stumble at times into Roa… Not seeing the sign-board that poi… Through caverns of sorrow your fee…
In the dark night, from sweet refr… I wake to hear outside my window-p… The uncurbed fury of the wild spri… And weird winds lashing the defian… And roar of floods that gather str…
Methought a great wind swept acros… And all the toilers perished. The… Pale terror blanch the rosy face o… And careless eyes grow full of fea… The sounds of pleasure ceased; the…
Why should the poet of these pregn… Be asked to sing of war’s unholy c… To laud and eulogize the trade whi… On horrid holocausts of human live… Man was a fighting beast when eart…
Here in my office I sit and write Hour on hour, and day on day, With no one to speak to from morn… Though I have a neighbour just ov… Across the alley that yawns betwee…
There is a certain castle that is… And plants, and birds, and pretty… But alas! for the unhappy folks wh… A dreadful ogre haunts the house a… Some day I fear will find them de…
They tell me new methods now gover… The modes of expression have chang… That low is the rank of the poet w… The old-fashioned verse with inten… And quite out of date, too, is rhy…
I am all tired out, said the mouth… I am all tired out with talk. Just wait, said the knee, till you… And then have to walk-walk-walk. My work, said the hand, is the har…
In the rapture of life and of livi… I lift up my head and rejoice, And I thank the great Giver for g… The soul of my gladness a voice. In the glow of the glorious weathe…