#AmericanWriters
“Truth,” said a traveller, “Is a rock, a mighty fortress; Often have I been to it, Even to its highest tower, From whence the world looks black.…
LITTLE birds of the night Aye, they have much to tell Perching there in rows Blinking at me with their serious… Recounting of flowers they have se…
“Have you ever made a just man?” “Oh, I have made three,” answered… “But two of them are dead, And the third— Listen! Listen!
EACH small gleam was a voice —A lantern voice— In little songs of carmine, violet… A chorus of colors came over the w… The wondrous leaf-shadow no longer…
The impact of a dollar upon the he… Smiles warm red light, Sweeping from the hearth rosily up… With the hanging cool velvet shado… Moving softly upon the door.
When the prophet, a complacent fat… Arrived at the mountain-top, He cried: “Woe to my knowledge! I intended to see good white lands And bad black lands,
And you love me I love you. You are, then, cold coward. Aye; but, beloved, When I strive to come to you,
Mystic shadow, bending near me, Who art thou? Whence come ye? And—tell me—is it fair Or is the truth bitter as eaten fi…
Love walked alone. The rocks cut her tender feet, And the brambles tore her fair lim… There came a companion to her, But, alas, he was no help,
There was crimson clash of war. Lands turned black and bare; Women wept; Babes ran, wondering. There came one who understood not…
Once I saw mountains angry, And ranged in battle-front. Against them stood a little man; Aye, he was no bigger than my fing… I laughed, and spoke to one near m…
The trees in the garden rained flo… Children ran there joyously. They gathered the flowers Each to himself. Now there were some
Blustering God, Stamping across the sky With loud swagger, I fear You not. No, though from Your highest heav…
In a lonely place, I encountered a sage Who sat, all still, Regarding a newspaper. He accosted me:
“Tell brave deeds of war.” Then they recounted tales,— “There were stern stands And bitter runs for glory.” Ah, I think there were braver dee…