#AmericanWriters
from the unpublished remains of Ed… It was many and many a year ago, In a city by the sea, That a man there lived whom I hap… By the name of Andrew M’Crie;
When I was young and well and gla… I used to play at being sad; Now youth and health are fled away… At being glad I sometimes play.
Crimson and cream and white - My room is a garden of roses! Centre and left and right, Three several splendid posies. As the sender is, they are sweet,
Sleep flies me like a lover Too eagerly pursued, Or like a bird to cover Within some distant wood, Where thickest boughs roof over
When one who has wandered out of t… Which leads to the hills of joy, Whose heart has grown both cold an… Though it be but the heart of a bo… When such a one turns back his fee…
Oh, who may this dead warrior be That to his grave they bring? ’Tis William, Duke of Normandy, The conqueror and king. Across the sea, with fire and swor…
The Red King’s gone a-hunting, in… For the tall red deer to wander th… The King and Walter Tyrrel, Prin… Are all gone out upon the sport th… Last night, when they were feastin…
[After Wordsworth.] It was a phantom of delight When first it gleamed upon my sigh… A scholarly distinction, sent To be a student’s ornament.
The air is dark and fragrant With memories of a shower, And sanctified with stillness By this most holy hour. The leaves forget to whisper
My soul is like a prisoned lark, That sings and dreams of liberty, The nights are long, the days are… Away from home, away from thee! My only joy is in my dreams,
at the L.l.a. examination In Algebra, if Algebra be ours, x and x2 can ne’er be equal powers… Unless x=1, or none at all. It is the little error in the sum,
Despair is in the suns that shine, And in the rains that fall, This sad forsaken soul of mine Is weary of them all. They fall and shine on alien stree…
I met him down upon the pier, His eyes were wild and sad, And something in them made me fear That he was going mad. So, being of a prudent sort,
Oh, where’s the use of having gift… And where’s the use of singing, wh… It may be one or two will say your… But where’s the use of honey, when…
When the weary night is fled, And the morning sky is red, Then my heart doth rise and say, ‘Surely she will come to-day.’ In the golden blaze of noon,