#AmericanWriters
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
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
SOFT as the bed in the earth Where a stone has lain— So soft, so smooth and so cool, Spring closes me in With her arms and her hands.
This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream
By constantly tormenting them with reminders of the lice in their children’s hair, the School Physician first brought their hatred down on him.
You say love is this, love is that… Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip— branches drifting apart. Hagh!
This quiet morning light reflected, how many times from grass and tress and clouds enters my north room touching the walls with
It is still warm enough to slip from the weeds into the lake’s edge, your clothes blushing in the grass and three small boys grinning behind the derelict hearth’s side. But summer...
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on
A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.
Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!
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…
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which