(1921)
#AmericanWriters
Constantly near you, I never in m… sixty-four years knew you so well… or half so well. We talked. you we… so lucid, so disengaged from all e… of place and time. We talked of ou…
Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides
If a man can say of his life or any moment of his life, There is nothing more to be desired! his st… becomes like that told in the famo… double sonnet—but without the
Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and— In the tall, dried grasses
An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…
unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
I lie here thinking of you:—— the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves,
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem— save that it’s green and wooden— I come, my sweet,
If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…
The grass is very green, my friend… and tousled, like the head of —— your grandson, yes? And the mounta… the mountain we climbed twenty years since for the last
Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
Rather notice, mon cher, that the moon is titled above the point of the steeple than that its color