#AmericanWriters #Epigram
The hour was late; the fire burned… The Landlord’s eyes were closed i… And near the story’s end a deep, Sonorous sound at times was heard, As when the distant bagpipes blow.
Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death; Wild and gast blew the blast, And the east—wind was his breath. His lordly ships of ice
The old house by the lindens Stood silent in the shade, And on the gravelled pathway The light and shadow played. I saw the nursery windows
All houses wherein men have lived… Are haunted houses. Through the o… The harmless phantoms on their err… With feet that make no sound upon… We meet them at the doorway, on th…
One hundred years ago, and somethi… In Queen Street, Portsmouth, at… Neat as a pin, and blooming as a r… Stood Mistress Stavers in her fur… Just as her cuckoo-clock was strik…
On the shores of Gitche Gumee, Of the shining Big-Sea-Water, Stood Nokomis, the old woman, Pointing with her finger westward, O’er the water pointing westward,
I said unto myself, if I were dea… What would befall these children?… Their fate, who now are looking up… For help and furtherance? Their l… Would be a volume wherein I have…
Love, love, what wilt thou with th… Naught see I fixed or sure in the… I do not know thee,—nor what deeds… Love, love, what wilt thou with th… Naught see I fixed or sure in the…
Allah gives light in darkness, Allah gives rest in pain, Cheeks that are white with weeping Allah paints red again. The flowers and the blossoms withe…
Simon Danz has come home again, From cruising about with his bucca… He has singed the beard of the Ki… And carried away the Dean of Jaen And sold him in Algiers.
Down from yon distant mountain hei… The brooklet flows through the vil… A boy comes forth to wash his hand… Washing, yes washing, there he sta… In the water cool and sweet.
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. Not far away we saw the port,
Loke sat and thought, till his dar… With joy at the deed he’d done; When Sif looked into the crystal… Her courage was wellnigh gone. For never again her soft amber hai…
On the green little isle of Inchk… Who is it that walks by the shore, So gay with his Highland blue bon… So brave with his targe and claymo… His form is the form of a giant,
Thou ancient oak! whose myriad lea… With sounds of unintelligible spee… Sounds as of surges on a shingly b… Or multitudinous murmurs of a crow… With some mysterious gift of tongu…