#AmericanWriters
AN ARGUMENT FOR THE MAINTENANCE OF PEACE AND GOODWILL WITH THE JAPANESE PEOPLE Glossary for the uninstructed and the hasty: Jimmu Tenno, ancestor of all the Japanese Emperors;...
(Matthew V, 38-48.) Who can surrender to Christ, divi… Giving to each what he asks, bravi… All for the enemy, MAN? Who can… His words and his works, his house…
I. THE VOICE OF THE… We find your soft Utopias as whit… As new-cut bread, and dull as life… O, scribes who dare forget how wil… How human breasts adore alarum bel…
The old man had his box and wheel For grinding knives and shears. No doubt his bell in village stree… Was joy to children’s ears. And I bethought me of my youth
Let not young souls be smothered o… They do quaint deeds and fully fla… It is the world’s one crime its ba… Its poor are ox-like, limp and lea… Not that they starve; but starve s…
Star of my heart, I follow from a… Sweet Love on high, lead on where… Where Time is not, and only dream… Star from of old, the Magi-Kings… And a foolish Saxon seeks the man…
[What the Man of Faith said]… The dew, the rain and moonlight All prove our Father’s mind. The dew, the rain and moonlight Descend to bless mankind.
Would that by Hindu magic we beca… Dark monks of jeweled India long… Sitting at Prince Siddartha’s fee… The foolishness of gold and love a… The gospel of the Great Renunciat…
[Written to the Most Beautiful… MAnd never have I been in love wi… Always aspiring to be set in tune With one who is invisible, inhuman… O laughing girl, cold TRUTH has…
[Concerning O. Henry (Sidney… “He could not forget that he was a… Is this Sir Philip Sidney, this… The darling of the glad and gaping… This is that dubious hero of the p…
(IN THE BEGINNING) The sun is a huntress young, The sun is a red, red joy, The sun is an indian girl, Of the tribe of the Illinois.
The cornfields rise above mankind, Lifting white torches to the blue, Each season not ashamed to be Magnificently decked for you. What right have you to call them y…
(A Poem Game.) “Down cellar,” said the cricket, “Down cellar,” said the cricket, “Down cellar,” said the cricket, “I saw a ball last night,
Incense and Splendor haunt me as… Though my good works have been, al… Though I do naught, High Heaven… And future ages pass in tall revie… I see the years to come as armies…
My lady in her white silk shawl Is like a lily dim, Within the twilight of the room Enthroned and kind and prim. My lady! Pale gold is her hair.