Youth, by C. B. Langston
Oh happy youth! Season of life most lovely!
Fa...
Oh happy youth! Season of life most lovely!
Fa...
What force, what sudden impulse thus can make
...
The basket swift-descending from the skies,
T...
O when, my soul, wilt thou resound the praise...
Tho' great Apollo claim the poet's lyre,
Yet ...
Welcome to the park where I took my lover down ...
The green was creeping o'er the brown,
The sk...
All day through the cloven mountains
Up a mira...
"Tinkle-te-tinkle, " it said, close to the pat...
The little common people
Are laughing in the s...
To be a slave, if Love were always keeper,
W...
O ye who dwell beneath the temperate sun,
And...
Strange words for man! Through all we dream and...
Sweetheart, when the year turns back,
And ov...
One night I passed the gardens of the King;
T...
When I am dead
Lay me not straitly on a lidded...
I There are some things too wonderful to tell:...
If I were God, I'd mould hills rolling low,
...
Flowers are on the mantle; in the grate
A new ...
With what dull drugs do I conspire to still
My...
She rose in the night and fled;
Such a night ...
O JAMMES, your house is like your face. A bear...
THIS winter night is odorous of spring.
Dreami...
For many years my life work ply,
And many mus...
In Texas, where the Wichita
Enrodes a gash, ...