Amos Bronson Alcott
ROMANCER, far more coy than that coy sex!
Perchance some stroke of magic thee befell,
Ere thy baronial keep the Muse did vex,
Nor grant deliverance from enchanted spell,
But tease thee all the while and sore perplex,
Till thou that wizard tale shouldst fairly tell,
Better than poets in thy own clear prose.
Painter of sin in its deep scarlet dyes,
Thy doomsday pencil Justice doth expose,
Hearing and judging at the dread assize;
New England’s guilt blazoning before all eyes,
No other chronicler than thee she chose.
Magician deathless! dost thou vigil keep,
Whilst ’neath our pines thou feignest deathlike sleep?
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Hawthorne by Amos Bronson Alcott )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Love Your Neighbor, Roxanne Dubarry
- Hidden Voice, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Francine, Cyndi K. Encinares Gacosta
- The face of a young woman in pink, Cyndi K. Encinares Gacosta
- Segundas/Sobre reudas, Cyndi K. Encinares Gacosta
- Snail Talk for Rosemary, Daniel Brick
- Dear Greg, Roxanne Dubarry
- Rosy flower, hasmukh amathalal
- Ideas, gajanan mishra
- Clad in Stars, Steven Rhoads