#AmericanWriters
Will ever the dear days come back… Those days of June, when lilacs w… And bluebirds sang their sonnets i… Of leaves that roofed them in from… I know not; but a presence will re…
A wind came up out of the sea, And said, ‘O mists, make room for… It hailed the ships, and cried, ‘… Ye mariners, the night is gone.’ And hurried landward far away,
The night is come, but not too soo… And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. There is no light in earth or heav…
Short of stature, large of limb, Burly face and russet beard, All the women stared at him, When in Iceland he appeared. ‘Look!’ they said,
Still through Egypt’s desert plac… Flows the lordly Nile, From its banks the great stone fac… Gaze with patient smile. Still the pyramids imperious
There is a Reaper, whose name is… And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a br… And the flowers that grow between. “Shall I have naught that is fair…
The Landlord ended thus his tale, Then rising took down from its nai… The sword that hung there, dim wit… And cleaving to its sheath with ru… And said, ‘This sword was in the…
DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR M… We sat within the farm-house old, Whose windows, looking o’er the ba… Gave to the sea-breeze damp and co… An easy entrance, night and day.
The young Endymion sleeps Endymio… The shepherd—boy whose tale was le… The solemn grove uplifts its shiel… To the red rising moon, and loud a… The nightingale is singing from th…
From the outskirts of the town Where of old the mile—stone stood, Now a stranger, looking down I behold the shadowy crown Of the dark and haunted wood.
O precious evenings! all too swift… Leaving us heirs to amplest herita… Of all the best thoughts of the gr… And giving tongues unto the silent… How our hearts glowed and trembled…
When I compare What I have lost with what I have… What I have missed with what atta… Little room do I find for pride. I am aware
TRAVELLER Why dost thou wildly rush and roar… Mad River, O Mad River? Wilt thou not pause and cease to p… Thy hurrying, headlong waters o’er
Lo! in the painted oriel of the W… Whose panes the sunken sun incarna… Like a fair lady at her casement,… The evening star, the star of love… And then anon she doth herself div…
In the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city, As the evening shades descended, Low and loud and sweetly blended, Low at times and loud at times,