The Red Zouave (Anonymous Americas Poems)
The stars were bright, the breeze was still,The cicada and the whippoorwill,Alone disturbed the scene;A streamlet down the dark ravine,Hasted ...
The stars were bright, the breeze was still,The cicada and the whippoorwill,Alone disturbed the scene;A streamlet down the dark ravine,Hasted ...
Alas! the weary hours pass slow, The night is very dark and still;And in the marshes far below ...
473I am ashamed-I hide-What right have I-to be a Bride-So late a Dowerless Girl-Nowhere to hide my dazzled Face-No one ...
I lingered still when you were gone, When tryst and trust were o'er, While memory like a ...
ICome to me, shadows, down the hill,Lie softly at my feet.The sun has worked his willAnd the day is done.Come ...
Maurice, weep not, I am not here under this pine tree.The balmy air of spring whispers through the sweet grass,The ...
GOLDEN-GRAY the twilight lingers In the glory of the west, Where the whippoorwill is singing And the lake is lulled ...
There's little in a green wood,Little in a dry,Can ease a man's heartWhen his heart is awry,When foot-crushed twigsOnly terrify;When ...
You shall hear how Hiawatha Prayed and fasted in the forest, Not for greater skill in hunting, Not for greater ...
In those days the Evil Spirits, All the Manitos of mischief, Fearing Hiawatha's wisdom, And his love for Chibiabos, Jealous ...
Two good friends had Hiawatha, Singled out from all the others, Bound to him in closest union, And to whom ...
Can it be the sun descending O'er the level plain of water? Or the Red Swan floating, flying, Wounded by ...
I DWELL in a lonely house I know That vanished many a summer ago, And left no trace but the ...
I am ashamed -- I hide -- What right have I -- to be a Bride -- So late a ...
A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting -- sings! Whose galleries -- are Sunrise -- Whose Opera -- the Springs ...
Many a phrase has the English language -- I have heard but one -- Low as the laughter of the ...
THERE was a wild pigeon came often to Hinkley's timber. Gray wings that wrote their loops and triangles on the ...
The binocular owl, fastened to a limb like a lantern all night long, sees where all the other birds sleep: ...
Maurice, weep not, I am not here under this pine tree. The balmy air of spring whispers through the sweet ...
Last night at black midnight I woke with a cry, The windows were shaking, there was thunder on high, The ...
The moon's a gong, hung in the wild, Whose song the fays hold dear. Of course you do not hear ...
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