#Americans #Suicide #XIXCentury #XXCentury
UNDER THE BLESSING… Though I have found you llke a sn… On sunny days have found you weak… Though I have often held your gir… Drooped on my shoulder, faint from…
Your dust will be upon the wind Within some certain years, Though you be sealed in lead to-da… Amid the country’s tears. When this idyllic churchyard
WHERE is David?. . . O God’s p… Saul has passed, the good and grea… Mourn for Saul the first-anointed… Head and shoulders o’er the state. He was found among the Prophets:
A POEM DEDICATED T… Galahad . . . soldier that perishe… Our hearts are breaking with shame… Galahad . . . knight who perished… Teach us to fight for immaculate w…
The moon’s a gong, hung in the wil… Whose song the fays hold dear. Of course you do not hear it, chil… It takes a FAIRY ear. The full moon is a splendid gong
The moon is but a golden skull, She mounts the heavens now, And Moon-Worms, mighty Moon-Worm… Are wreathed around her brow. The Moon-Worms are a doughty race…
A Chant for Boys with Manly Voic… (Every line sung one step deeper t… Any sky-bird sings, Ring, ring! Any church-chime rings,
I. A NEGRO SERMON:—SI… (To be read in your own variety… Legree’s big house was white and g… His cotton-fields were the best to… He had strong horses and opulent c…
What is my mast? A pen. What are my sails? Ten crescent m… What is my sea? A bottle of ink. Where do I go? To heaven again. What do I eat? The amaranth flowe…
The moon’s a brass-hooped water-ke… A wondrous water-feast. If I could climb the ridge and dr… And give drink to my beast; If I could drain that keg, the fl…
Sleep softly... eagle forgotten...… Time has its way with you there, a… “We have buried him now,” thought… They made a brave show of their mo… They had snarled at you, barked at…
When Yankee soldiers reach the ba… Then Joan of Arc gives each the a… For she is there in armor clad, to… All the young poets of the wide wo… Which of our freemen did she greet…
Your pen needs but a ruffle To be Pavlova whirling. It surely is a scalawag A-scamping down the page. A pretty little May-wind
I am unjust, but I can strive for… My life’s unkind, but I can vote… I, the unloving, say life should b… I, that am blind, cry out against… Man is a curious brute—he pets his…
The North Star whispers: “You ar… Of those whose course no chance ca… You blunder, but are not undone, Your spirit-task is fixed and stra… ”When here you walk, a bloodless s…
