Epigraph to Lustra
#AmericanWriters
(1907) 1 am homesick after mine own kind, Oh I know that there are folk abo… But I am homesick after mine own… ‘These sell our pictures’! Oh wel…
For a moment she rested against me Like a swallow half blown to the w… And they talk of Swinburne’s wome… And the shepherdess meeting with… And the harlots of Baudelaire.
The surges gushed and sounded, The blue was the blue of June, And low above the brightening east Floated a shred of moon. The woods were black and solemn,
The lateral vibrations caress me, They leap and caress me, They work pathetically in my favou… They seek my financial good. She of the spear stands present.
This thing, that hath a code and n… Hath set acquaintance where might… And nothing now Disturbeth his reflections.
Did I ‘ear it ’arf in a doze: The Co-ops was a goin’ somewhere, Did I 'ear it while pickin’ 'ops; How they better start takin’ care, That the papers were gettin’ toget…
Her little face is like a walnut s… With wrinkling lines; her soft, wh… Her withered brows in quaint, stra… And all about her clings an old, s… Prim is her gown and quakerlike he…
With usura hath no man a house of… each block cut smooth and well fit… that design might cover their face… with usura hath no man a painted paradise on…
Like a skein of loose silk blown a… She walks by the railing of a path… And she is dying piece—meal of a sort of emotional anæmia. And round about there is a rabble
Aye you’re a man that! ye old mesm… Tyin’ your meanin’ in seventy swad… One must of needs be a hang’d earl… To catch you at worm turning. Hol… ‘Cat’s i’ the water butt!' Though…
For three years, out of key with h… He strove to resuscitate the dead… Of poetry; to maintain “the sublim… In the old sense. Wrong from the… No, hardly, but seeing he had been…
Agathas Four and forty lovers had Agathas… All of whom she refused; And now she turns to me seeking lo… And her hair also is turning.
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:
Let some new lying ass, Who knows not what is or was, Talk economics, Pay for his witless noise, Get the kid nice new toys,
The twisted rhombs ceased their cl… The scorched laurel lay in the fir… The moon still declined to descend… But the black ominous owl hoot was… And one raft bears our fates