William Dean Howells Poems

TOSSING his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles,
   Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath,
Through all the moaning chimneys, and 'thwart all the hollows and
   angles
...

Yes, death is at the bottom of the cup,
And every one that lives must drink it up;
And yet between the sparkle at the top
...

SOMETHING lies in the room
Over against my own;
The windows are lit with a ghastly bloom
Of candles, burning alone,
...

BITTER the things one’s enemies will say
Against one sometimes when one is away,
But of a bitterness far more intense
...

THE COLONEL rode by his picket-line
In the pleasant morning sun,
That glanced from him far off to shine
On the crouching rebel picket’s gun.
...

I WAS not asked if I should like to come.
I have not seen my host here since I came,
Or had a word of welcome in his name.
...

INNOCENT spirits, bright, immaculate ghosts!
Why throng your heavenly hosts,
As eager for their birth
...

We sailed and sailed upon the desert sea
Where for whole days we alone seemed to be.
At last we saw a dim, vague line arise
...

OLD fraud, I know you in that gay disguise,
That air of hope, that promise of surprise:
Beneath your bravery, as you come this way,
...

BEFORE Him weltered like a shoreless sea
The souls of them that had not sought to be,
With all their guilt upon them, and they cried,
...