#AmericanWriters
Thou hast Drawn laughter from A well of secret tears And thence so elvish it rings, –mo… And sweet.
And the centurion who stood by sai… Truly this was a son of God. Not long ago but everywhere I go There is a hill and a black windy… Portent of hill, sky, day’s eclips…
Every day, Every day, Tell the hours By their shadows, By their shadows.
(Girl’s Song) In Babylon, in Nineveh, And long ago, and far away, The lilies and the lotus blew That are my sweet of youth to-day.
For Aubrey Beardsley’s picture Pierrot is dying: Tiptoe in, Finger touched to lip, Harlequin,
I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.
The sun is warm today, O Romulus, and on Thine older Palentine the birds Still sing.
JUST now, Out of the strange Still dusk . . . as strange, as st… A white moth flew . . . Why am I… So cold?
Too far afield thy search. Nay, t… At thine own elbow potent Memory… Thy double, and eternity is cupped In the pale hollow of those ghostl…
In a cave born (Mary said) In a cave is My Son buried
With swift Great sweep of her Magnificent arm my pain Clanged back the doors that shut m… From life.
Musicians O Musicians: Heartseas… Heartsease: an you will have me li… Light wind in the small green leav… Play, oh play, my sad heart ease; Birds, shake from your wilding thr…
If it Were lighter touch Than petal of flower resting On grass, oh still too heavy it we… Too heavy!
The shadowy boy of night Crosses the dusking land; He sows his poppy-seeds With steady, gentle hand. The shadowy boy of night
You nor I nor nobody knows Where our daily-taken breath Vanisheth and vanisheth: Where our lost breath’s flying goe… You nor I nor nobody knows.