#AmericanWriters #Epigram
On St. Bavon’s tower, commanding Half of Flanders, his domain, Charles the Emperor once was stan… While beneath him on the landing Stood Duke Alva and his train.
Spring is coming, birds are twitte… And the loosened torrents downward… Glowing like the cheek of Freya,… And in human hearts awaken love of… Now will hunt the ancient monarch,…
Listen, my children, and you shall… Of the midnight ride of Paul Reve… On the eighteenth of April, in Se… Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and…
Leafless are the trees; their purp… Spread themselves abroad, like ree… Rising silent In the Red Sea of the winter suns… From the hundred chimneys of the v…
Laugh of the mountain!—lyre of bir… Pomp of the meadow! mirror of the… The soul of April, unto whom are… The rose and jessamine, leaps wild… Although, where’er thy devious cur…
You shall hear how Hiawatha Prayed and fasted in the forest, Not for greater skill in hunting, Not for greater craft in fishing, Not for triumphs in the battle,
Witlaf, a king of the Saxons, Ere yet his last he breathed, To the merry monks of Croyland His drinking-horn bequeathed,— That, whenever they sat at their r…
Oft I remember those I have known In other days, to whom my heart wa… As by a magnet, and who are not de… But absent, and their memories ove… With other thoughts and troubles o…
(Tristia, Book III. Elegy X.) Should any one there in Rome reme… And, without me, my name still in… Tell him that under stars which ne… I am existing still, here in a bar…
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,
Little sweet wine of Jurançon, You are dear to my memory still! With mine host and his merry song, Under the rose-tree I drank my fi… Twenty years after, passing that w…
Two good friends had Hiawatha, Singled out from all the others, Bound to him in closest union, And to whom he gave the right hand Of his heart, in joy and sorrow;
A cold, uninterrupted rain, That washed each southern window-p… And made a river of the road; A sea of mist that overflowed The house, the barns, the gilded v…
“Honor be to Mudjekeewis!” Cried the warriors, cried the old… When he came in triumph homeward With the sacred Belt of Wampum, From the regions of the North-Win…
The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through clouds like ashes