American Books

Second Fig   Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:  Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand! Recuerdo   We were very tired, we were very merry—  We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.  It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable—  But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,  We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon;  And the whistles... more...

PREFACE In March, 1914, a volume appeared entitled "Des Imagistes." It was a collection of the work of various young poets, presented together as a school. This school has been widely discussed by those interested in new movements in the arts, and has already become a household word. Differences of taste and judgment, however, have arisen among the contributors to that book; growing tendencies... more...

Into My Own ONE of my wishes is that those dark trees,So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,But stretched away unto the edge of doom.I should not be withheld but that some dayInto their vastness I should steal away,Fearless of ever finding open land,Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.I do not see why I should e'er turn back,Or... more...

PREFACE The candlelight sweeps softly through the room,Filling dim surfaces with golden laughter,Touching with mystery each high hung rafter,Cutting a path of promise through the gloom. Slim little elves dance gently on each taper,Wistful, small ghosts steal out of shroudedcorners—And, like a line of vague enchanted mourners,Great shadows sway like wind-blown sheets of paper. Gently as fingers drawn... more...

The Pasture I'M going out to clean the pasture spring;I'll only stop to rake the leaves away(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.I'm going out to fetch the little calfThat's standing by the mother. It's so young,It totters when she licks it with her tongue.I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too. SOMETHING there is... more...

MAURINE PART I.I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune,Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June!Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair:The climbing rose‑tree grew about me there,And checked with shade the sunny porticoWhere, morns like this, I came to read, or sew. I heard the gate click, and a firm quick treadUpon the walk. No need to turn my head;I would... more...

Bread Poems   Lullaby  Embarkation of Cythera  Christian Luxuries  Narrow Flowers  Eyes  After Youth  The Shadow that Walks Alone  Bible Truth  The Maternal Breast  Air for G String  Destiny The Red Cross   Hectic I-II  Isolation Ward  The Red Cross  Hospital Night Domestic Canticle   Spring Song  Home Again  To a Sick Child  Love Song  Quarrel  My Child  The... more...

The Path to HomeThere's the mother at the doorway, and the children at the gate,And the little parlor windows with the curtains white and straight.There are shaggy asters blooming in the bed that lines the fence,And the simplest of the blossoms seems of mighty consequence.Oh, there isn't any mansion underneath God's starry domeThat can rest a weary pilgrim like the little place called... more...

To M AE C E N A S.   MAECENAS, you, beneath the myrtle shade,  Read o'er what poets sung, and shepherds play'd.  What felt those poets but you feel the same?  Does not your soul possess the sacred flame?  Their noble strains your equal genius shares  In softer language, and diviner airs.    While Homer paints, lo! circumfus'd in air,  Celestial Gods in mortal forms... more...

LONGFELLOW'S POEMS IN PROSE he home of the American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, during the greater part of his life was in the picturesque town of Cambridge, Massachusetts, and there many of his best known poems were written. The forge of the Village Blacksmith really stood there beneath the shelter of a "spreading chestnut tree," in Cambridge, and when, as the town grew larger, the... more...