#AmericanWriters
One leaves his leaves at home beomg a mullen and sends up a ligh… to peer from: I will have my way, yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten fifty, a hundred, smaller and smal…
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind
Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…
The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
You Communists and Republicans! all you Germans and Frenchmen! you corpses and quickeners! The stars are about to melt and fall on you in tears.
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue