#AmericanWriters
The wind comes riding down from he… Ho! wind of heaven, what do you br… Cool for the dawn, dew for the eve… And every sweetest thing. O wind of heaven, from pink clouds…
Art thou he?— The seer and sage, the hero and lo… The man of men, then away from the… day Come with me!
The forest was a shrine for her, A temple richly dressed; And worshippers the tall trees wer… Each to his prayer addressed. Scarce dared I lift my eyes, or s…
He loved her and he was untrue— Untrue he was, let loved her still… For out of nether darkness drew The winds that lashed his wanderin… She lived in joy all unaware,
FLOWER of the moon! Still white is her brow whom we wo… Yea, purer than pearls in deep sea… The dull years veil their eyes fro… Nor profane her with age—the immor…
Where bold Sierras cut the sky Mount Whitney, of the high most h… Halts the pale clouds that wander… We crept and climbed with eager fe… Until the world, fulfilled, comple…
In lazy laughing Panama— O flutter of ribbon 'twixt the sea… The low-roofed houses lie afloat, White foam-drift of the Caribbees… Under lithe palms that fan the sky
I have not where to lay my head: Upon my breast no child shall lie; For me no marriage feast is spread… I walk alone under the sky.
How wild, how witch-like weird tha… That the insensate rock dared drea… And take to bursting out and burge… Oh, long ago—yo ho!— And wearing green! How stark and…
Pearl-gray is the sky, And high within it, sailing by, Three sea-gulls fly. Pearl-white are they Against the sky’s obscurer gray—
Three crosses rose on Calvary aga… Each with its living burden, each… And all the ages watched there, an… One bore the God incarnate, revil… Who through the woe he suffered fo…
Your voice, beloved, on the living… Borne to me by the spirit powerful Who binds the atoms and leaps out… Great suns together! Ah, what mag… Strung for God’s fingers, sounds…
Good-bye!—no, do not grieve that i… The perfect hour; That the winged joy, sweet honey-l… Flits from the flower. Grieve not—it is the law. Love wi…
Dear Wanderer— The sky is gray, With flecks of blue The clouds rush over. A bird is singing
Moscow White Moscow of the pearly towers… And golden domes for praise, And chiming hours! Red Moscow of the Kremlin walls,