#AmericanWriters
My crippled sense fares bow’d alon… His uncompanioned way, And wronged by death pays life wit… And I wake by night and dream by… And the Morning seems but fatigue…
From the German of Herder. All faintly through my soul to-day… As from a bell that far away Is tinkled by some frolic fay, Floateth a lovely chiming.
I. Sunrise. In my sleep I was fain of their f… Of the live-oak, the marsh, and th… The little green leaves would not… Up-breathed from the marshes, a me…
By Sidney and Clifford Lanier. O wish that’s vainer than the plas… Of these wave-whimsies on the shor… “Give us a pearl to fill the gash— God, let our dead friend live once…
Out of the hills of Habersham, Down the valleys of Hall, I hurry amain to reach the plain, Run the rapid and leap the fall, Split at the rock and together aga…
Als du im Saal mit deiner himmlis… Beethoven zeigst, und seinem Will… Mit den zehn Fingern fuehrst der… Zehn Zungen sagen was der Meister… Schauend dich an, ich seh’, dass n…
Hey, rose, just born Twin to a thorn; Was’t so with you, O Love and Sc… Sweet eyes that smiled, Now wet and wild:
“Order A. P. Hill to prepare for… “Tell Major Hawks to advance the… “Let us cross the river and rest i… The stars of Night contain the gl… And rain his glory down with sweet…
In o’er-strict calyx lingering, Lay music’s bud too long unblown, Till thou, Beethoven, breathed th… Then bloomed the perfect rose of t… O Psalmist of the weak, the stron…
Joust First. Bright shone the lists, blue bent… And the knights still hurried amai… To the tournament under the ladies… Where the jousters were Heart and…
Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chi… Complain no more; for these, O he… Direct the random of the will As rhymes direct the rage of art. The lute’s fixt fret, that runs at…
Swift, through some trap mine eyes… Dim-panelled in the painted scene… Thou, giant Harlequin of Dreams,… Upon my spirit’s stage. Then Sig… Then Space and Time, then Langua…
What time I paced, at pleasant mo… A deep and dewy wood, I heard a mellow hunting-horn Make dim report of Dian’s lustiho… Far down a heavenly hollow.
What heartache—ne’er a hill! Inexorable, vapid, vague and chill The drear sand-levels drain my spi… With one poor word they tell me al… Whereat their stupid tongues, to t…
or, The First Steamboat up the A… You, Dinah! Come and set me whar… De Lord, HE made dese black-jack… Umph, dar! De Lord have mussy on… It 'pear to me dis mornin’ I kin…