#AmericanWriters
I ha’ seen them 'mid the clouds on… Lo! they pause not for love nor fo… Yet their eyes are as the eyes of… When the white hart breaks his cov… And the white wind breaks the morn…
The petals fall in the fountain, the orange-coloured rose-leaves, Their ochre clings to the stone.
Gone while your tastes were keen t… Gone where the grey winds call to… By that high fencer, even Death, Struck of the blade that no man pa… Such is your fence, one saith,
Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi
Take, dear, my little sheaf of son… For, old or new, All that is good in them belongs Only to you; And, singing as when all was young…
In the cream gilded cabin of his s… Mr. Nixon advised me kindly, to a… Dangers of delay. ‘Consider Carefully the reviewer. ’I was as poor as you are;
I sat on the Dogana’s steps For the gondolas cost too much, th… And there were not “those girls”,… And the Buccentoro twenty yards o… And the lit cross—beams, that year…
When you wake in your crib, You, an inch of experience - Vaulted about With the wonder of darkness; Wailing and striving
Sing we for love and idleness, Naught else is worth the having. Though I have been in many a land… There is naught else in living. And I would rather have my sweet,
My City, my beloved, my white! Ah… Listen! Listen to me, and I will… Delicately upon the reed, attend m… Now do I know that I am mad, For here are a million people surl…
By the North Gate, the wind blows… Lonely from the beginning of time… Trees fall, the grass goes yellow… I climb the towers and towers to watch out the barbarous land:
Come, my songs, let us speak of pe… We shall get ourselves rather disl… Ah yes, my songs, let us resurrect The very excellent term Rusticus. Let us apply it in all its opprobr…
Three spirits came to me And drew me apart To where the olive boughs Lay stripped upon the ground: Pale carnage beneath bright mist.
The Dai horse neighs against the… The birds of Etsu have no love fo… Emotion is born out of habit. Yesterday we went out of the Wild… To-day from the Dragon-Pen.
Good God! They say you are risqué… O canzonetti! We who went out into the four A.… Composing our albas, We who shook off our dew with the…