American Books

THE WAYSIDE INN.One Autumn night, in Sudbury town,Across the meadows bare and brown,The windows of the wayside innGleamed red with fire-light through the leavesOf woodbine, hanging from the eavesTheir crimson curtains rent and thin.As ancient is this hostelryAs any in the land may be,Built in the old Colonial day,When men lived in a grander way,With ampler hospitality;A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall,Now... more...

THE THUNDERBOLT. There is an artless tradition among the Indians, related by Irving, of a warrior who saw the thunderbolt lying upon the ground, with a beautifully wrought moccasin on each side of it. Thinking he had found a prize, he put on the moccasins, but they bore him away to the land of spirits, whence he never returned.Loud pealed the thunderFrom arsenal high,Bright flashed the lightningAthwart... more...

Flag of The Free Flag of the free, our sable siresHave borne thee oft beforeInto hot battles' hell-lit fires,Against the fiercest foe.When first he shook his shaggy mein,And made the welkin ring,Brave Attucks fell upon the Plain,Thy stripes first crimsoning!Thy might and majesty we hurl,Against the bolts of Mars;And from thy ample folds unfurlThy field of flaming stars!Fond hope to nations in... more...

"Pray, what would you like?" said a Toyman, one day,Addressing a group of young folks,"I have toys in abundance, and very cheap, too,Though not quite so cheap as my jokes."Here's a famous managerie, full of wild beasts;See! this lion with wide open jaws,Enough to affright one, and yet I've no doubt,You might venture to play with his claws."Here's a tiger as tame as a... more...

The Maid of Tamalpais. This she told me in the firelightAs I sat beside her campfire,In a grove of giant redwoods,On the slope of Tamalpais. Old she was, and bent and wrinkled,Lone survivor of the Tamals,Ancient tribe of Indian people,Who have left their name and legendOn the mountain they held sacred.On the ground she sat and brooded,With a blanket wrapped around her—Sat and gazed into the... more...

VOICES OF THE NIGHT <Greek poem here—Euripides.> PRELUDE. Pleasant it was, when woods were green,  And winds were soft and low,To lie amid some sylvan scene.Where, the long drooping boughs between,Shadows dark and sunlight sheen  Alternate come and go; Or where the denser grove receives  No sunlight from above,But the dark foliage interweavesIn one unbroken roof of leaves,Underneath whose... more...

THE PILOT’S STORY. I. It was a story the pilot told, with his back to his hearers,–– Keeping his hand on the wheel and his eye on the globe of the jack-staff, Holding the boat to the shore and out of the sweep of the current, Lightly turning aside for the heavy logs of the drift-wood, Widely shunning the snags that made us sardonic obeisance. II. All the soft, damp air was full of delicate... more...

  I. The Old Woman  (A Morality Play)   The Old Woman  (A Morality Play)   Characters:  The Woman  The House  The Doctor  The Deacon  The Landlady   Doctor:  There is an old woman  Who ought to die—   Deacon:  And nobody knows  But what she's dead—   Doctor:  The air will be cleaner  When she's gone—   Deacon:  But we dare not bury her  Till... more...

MAZELLI Canto I. I. "Stay, traveller, stay thy weary steed,The sultry hour of noon is near,Of rest thy way-worn limbs have need,Stay, then, and, taste its sweetness here.The mountain path which thou hast spedIs steep, and difficult to tread,And many a farther step 'twill cost,Ere thou wilt find another host;But if thou scorn'st not humble fare,Such as the pilgrim loves to share,—Not... more...

AN OLD HEART How young I am!  Ah! heaven, this curse of youth   Doth mock me from my mirror with great eyes,And pulsing veins repeat the unwelcome truth,   That I must live, though hope within me dies. So young, and yet I have had all of life.   Why, men have lived to see a hundred years,Who have not known the rapture, joy, and strife   Of my brief youth, its passion and its tears. Oh! what... more...