#AmericanWriters
If haply thou, O Desdemona Morn, Shouldst call along the curving sp… Dear Night, sweet Moor; nay, leav… With soft halloos of heavenly love… Shouldst thou, O Spring! a-cower…
Frowning, the owl in the oak compl… Sore, that the song of the robin r… Wrongly of slumber, rudely of rest… “From the north, from the east, fr… Woodland, wheat-field, corn-field,…
Written for the “Martha Washingto… Down cold snow-stretches of our bi… When windy shams and the rain-mock… Of Trade have cased us in such ic… That hearts are scarcely hot enoug…
From the German of Heine. In the far North stands a Pine-tr… Upon a wintry height; It sleeps: around it snows have t… A covering of white.
Sail fast, sail fast, Ark of my hopes, Ark of my dreams… Sweep lordly o’er the drowned Pas… Fly glittering through the sun’s s… Sail fast, sail fast.
Over the monstrous shambling sea, Over the Caliban sea, Bright Ariel-cloud, thou lingeres… Oh wait, oh wait, in the warm red… Thy Prospero I’ll be.
Sail on, sail on, fair cousin Clo… Oh loiter hither from the sea. Still-eyed and shadow-brow’d, Steal off from yon far-drifting cr… And come and brood upon the marsh…
At midnight, death’s and truth’s u… When far within the spirit’s heari… The great soft rumble of the cours… A bulk of silence in a mask of sou… When darkness clears our vision th…
‘Thou Ship of Earth, with Death,… And fires of Desires burning hotl… I fear thee, O! I fear thee, for… At battle on the deck, and the wil… ’The dewdrop morn may fall from of…
So one in heart and thought, I tr… That thou might’st press the strin… And both would meet in music sweet… Thou and I, I trow.
Time, hurry my Love to me: Haste, haste! Lov’st not good co… Here’s but a heart-break sandy was… ‘Twixt Now and Then. Why, killi… Were best, dear Time, for thee, f…
‘To heal his heart of long-time pa… One day Prince Love for to travel… With Ministers Mind and Sense. ’Now what to thee most strange may… Quoth Mind and Sense. ‘All thing…
A rose of perfect red, embossed With silver sheens of crystal fros… Yet warm, nor life nor fragrance l… High passion throbbing in a sphere That Art hath wrought of diamond…
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 was drivin’ my two-mule waggin, With a lot o’ truck for sale, Towards Macon, to git some baggin… (Which my cotton was ready to bale… And I come to a place on the side…