#AmericanWriters
What the Carpenter Said The moon’s a cottage with a door. Some folks can see it plain. Look, you may catch a glint of lig… A sparkle through the pane,
I know a seraph who has golden eye… And hair of gold, and body like th… Here in the wind I dream her unbo… Is blowing round me, that desire’s… Has touched her pale keen face, an…
I saw Lord Buddha towering by my… Saying: “Once more, good youth, I… Saying: “I bring you my fair Law… And from your withering passion fu… Release from that white hand that…
The flower-fed buffaloes of the sp… In the days of long ago, Ranged where the locomotives sing And the prarie flowers lie low: The tossing, blooming, perfumed gr…
I was but a half-grown boy, You were a girl-child slight. Ah, how weary you were! You had led in the bullock-fight..… We slew the bullock at length
On the road to nowhere What wild oats did you sow When you left your father’s house With your cheeks aglow? Eyes so strained and eager
(A Negro Sermon.) Once, in a night as black as ink, She drove him out when he would no… Round the house there were men in… Asleep in rows by the Gaza gate.
The Hope of the Resurrection Though I have watched so many mou… O’er the real dead, in dull earth… Those dead seemed but the shadows… That passed and left me in the sun…
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…
I hate this yoke; for the world’s… Knowing 'twill weigh as much on yo… Knowing you love your freedom dear… Knowing that love unchained has be… Our one great wine (yet spent too…
(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…
(A Poem Game.) ‘And when the Queen of Sheba he… she came to prove him with hard qu… [The men’s leader rises as he se… and approaching a position that gi…
Think not that incense-smoke has h… My friends, the incense-time has b… Creed upon creed, cult upon cult s… Shrine after shrine grow gray bene… And mountain-boulders in our aged…
He coveted her portrait. He toiled as she grew gay. She loved to see him labor In that devoted way. And in the end it pleased her,
Girl with the burning golden eyes, And red-bird song, and snowy throa… I bring you gold and silver moons And diamond stars, and mists that… I bring you moons and snowy clouds…