#AmericanWriters
Parks and ponds are good by day; I do not delight In black acres of the night, Nor my unseasoned step disturbs The sleeps of trees or dreams of h…
I am the Muse who sung alway By Jove, at dawn of the first day… Star—crowned, sole—sitting, long… To fire the stagnant earth with th… On spawning slime my song prevails…
Virtue runs before the muse And defies her skill, She is rapt, and doth refuse To wait a painter’s will. Star—adoring, occupied,
Why should I keep holiday, When other men have none? Why but because when these are gay… I sit and mourn alone. And why when mirth unseals all ton…
Daughters of Time, the hypocritic… Muffled and dumb like barefoot der… And marching single in an endless… Bring diadems and fagots in their… To each they offer gifts after his…
Deep in the man sits fast his fate To mould his fortunes, mean or gre… Unknown to Cromwell as to me Was Cromwell’s measure or degree; Unknown to him as to his horse,
The water understands Civilization well; It wets my foot, but prettily, It chills my life, but wittily, It is not disconcerted,
Ruby wine is drunk by knaves, Sugar spends to fatten slaves, Rose and vine—leaf deck buffoons; Thunder—clouds are Jove’s festoon… Drooping oft in wreaths of dread,
Venus, when her son was lost, Cried him up and down the coast, In hamlets, palaces, and parks, And told the truant by his marks, Golden curls, and quiver, and bow;…
Knows he who tills this lonely fie… To reap its scanty corn, What mystic fruit his acres yield At midnight and at morn? In the long sunny afternoon,
The sense of the world is short,— Long and various the report,— To love and be beloved; Men and gods have not outlearned i… And, how oft soe’er they’ve turned…
Seek not the Spirit, if it hide, Inexorable to thy zeal: Baby, do not whine and chide; Art thou not also real? Why should’st thou stoop to poor e…
Announced by all the trumpets of t… Arrives the snow, and, driving o’e… Seems nowhere to alight: the white… Hides hills and woods, the river,… And veils the farm—house at the ga…
ALL day the waves assailed the ro… I heard no church—bell chime; The sea—beat scorns the minster cl… And breaks the glass of Time.
Askest ‘How long thou shall stay?… Devastator of the day! Know, each substance and relation Thorough nature’s operation, Hath its unit, bound, and metre,
