#AmericanWriters
I Have not seen her face, and yet She is more sweet than any thing Of Earth than rose or violet That Mayday winds and sunbeams br… Of all we know, past or to come,
Small twilight singer Of dew and mist: thou ghost-gray,… Of dusk’s dim glimmer, How chill thy note sounds; how thy… Vibrate, soft-sighing,
Youth, with an arrogant air, Passes me by: Age, on his tottering staff, Stops with a sigh. ‘Here is a flower, ’he says,
Woman’s a star, a rose; Man but a moth, a bee: High now as heaven she glows, Low now as earth and sea: Star of the world and rose,
The hornets build in plaster-dropp… And on its mossy porch the lizard… Around its chimneys slow the swall… And on its roof the locusts snow t… Like some sad thought that broods…
Christmas Eve is here at last. And I’m happy as can be. Going to have a Christmas-tree, And more toys than any past Christmas saw or ever had,
I know a pool, whose crystalline r… Sleeps under walls of granite, whe… Leans looking at its image, line f… Repeated with the sumach and wild-… That redden on the rocks; where, a…
A grey, bald hillside, bristling h… With leprous-looking grass, that,… Slopes to a valley where a wild st… And every bush seems tortured to d… And shows its teeth of thorns as i…
Wild clouds roll up, slag-dark and… And in the oaks the sere wind sobs… Weird as a word a man before he di… Mutters beneath his breath yet fea… The rain drives down; and by each…
The waterfall, deep in the wood, Talked drowsily with solitude, A soft, insistent sound of foam, That filled with sleep the forest’… Where, like some dream of dusk, sh…
Lying alone I dreamed a dream las… Methought that Joy had come to co… For all the past, its suffering an… Yet in my heart I felt this could… All that he said unreal seemed and…
Summer met Sleep at sunset, Dreaming within the south, Drugged with his soul’s deep slumb… Red with her heart’s hot drouth, These are the drowsy kisses
With anxious eyes and dry, expecta… Within the sculptured stoa by the… All day she waited while, like gho… Long clouds rolled over Paphos: t… Hung in the sultry poppy, half asl…
O Days that hold us; and years th… And dreams and mem’ries no time de… Where lie the islands, the morning… And where the highlands we knew wh… Oh, tell us, whether the happy hea…
A shadow glided down the way Where sunset groped among the tree… And all the woodland bower, asway With trouble of the evening breeze… A shape, it moved with head held d…