Tag Archives: poetry

Longfellow in the Post

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow—a contemporary of Sam Houston—is one of the most American of our poets. Certainly he is better known than most, even if all we know are titles and a line or two from “The Song of Hiawatha,” “The Courtship of Miles Standish,” “The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere,” or “Evangaline.” This week, we offer some of his poems, which appeared in the Post of the 1840s. ... More
Dorothy Parker

Dorothy Parker in the Post

After being fired from Vanity Fair, Dorothy Parker began freelancing her humor. The Post was one of the magazines that recognized her skills and published her works. ... More

God-Fearing Mrs. Bates

Old Mrs. Bates is always Peeping through her curtain, Peering up and down the street, Making very certain Of the wicked goings on Of all of her neighbors To and from their roisterers, To and from their labors— Her nose is keen for gossip As a pointer’s for a pheasant— And all she knows about […] ... More
Painting by Allan Sallburg

Thanksgiving … 1950

Hard, hard it is, this anxious autumn, To lift the heavy mind from its dark forebodings; To sit at the bright feast, and with ruddy cheer Give thanks for the harvest of a troubled year. The clouds move and shift, withdraw to new positions on the hills; The sky above us is a thinning haze—a […] ... More

Mid-November

I greeted the new day happily, but the sky was a gray that scowled at me, and the wind was a voice that turned away, a sigh that hoped that I couldn’t stay. ... More

November Night

The wind goes keening through the dark, Disconsolate for what is lost— The rose, the leaf, the lyric stream Now songless under ice and frost. ... More

Halloween Visitor

Tonight when the moon is soaring high, And the broomstick set invades the sky, I’m expecting, as the wee ghosts moan, The only witch I’ve ever known. ... More

Western Hills

A hill, out West, grows lanky and lean, No soft grass on it, no flabby green, Sun-tanned, wind-wrinkled, leather-skinned land, Tough and wiry as an old cow hand. In lonely silence it rides the range, Day in and day out, without a change, Watching over sagebrush, keeping stray Live-oak trees from wandering away. From dawn […] ... More

Fall

Now is the drifting time when the leaves blossom, The sun of chrysanthemum in the soft blue sky. Slow dawn and hasty sunset seal the heavens. And a sleepy moon is there as the day goes by. ... More
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