Anonymous Americas Poems

In the cool, sweet hush of a wooded nook,
Where the May buds sprinkle the green old mound,
And the winds and the birds and the limpid brook,
...

Eternal Time, that wastest without waste,
That art and art not, diest, and livest still;
Most slow of all, and yet of greatest haste;
...

Quick, fly to the covert, thou hunted of men!
For the bloodhounds are baying o'er mountain and glen;
...

Children of the glorious dead,
Who for freedom fought and bled,
With her banner o'er you spread,
On to victory.
...

The marching armies of the past
Along our Southern plains,
Are sleeping now in quiet rest
Beneath the Southern rains.
...

If I could frame for you in cunning words
The songs my heart in sleep is often singing,
You'd fancy, love, an orquestra of birds
...

As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day,
I turned my fond gaze to the sky;
I beheld all the stars as so sweetly they lay,
...

Oh, England!
Sick in head and sick in heart,
Sick in whole and every part:
And yet sicker thou art still
...