#AmericanWriters
Sea-foam And coral! Oh, I’ll Climb the great pasture rocks And dream me mermaid in the sun’s Gold flood.
Not thou, White rose, but thy Ensanguined sister is The dear companion of my heart’s Shed blood.
Grey gaolers are my griefs That will not let me free; The bitterness of tears Is warder unto me. I may not leap or run;
Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?
How can you lie so still? All day… And never a blade of all the green… To show where restlessly you toss… And fling a desperate arm or draw… Stiffened and aching from their lo…
My songs to sell, sweet maid! I pray you buy. Here’s one will win a lady’s tears… Here’s one will make her gay, Here’s one will charm your true lo…
In your Curled petals what ghosts Of blue headlands and seas, What perfumed immortal breath sigh… Of Greece.
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…
Madonna, Madonnina Sat by the grey road-side, Saint Joseph her beside, And Our Lord at her breast; Oh they were fain to rest,
Dost thou Not feel them slip, How cold! how cold! the moon’s Thin wavering finger-tips, along Thy throat?
Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,
The sun is warm today, O Romulus, and on Thine older Palentine the birds Still sing.
As I went, as I went Over the mountains, I heard, I heard, Through cloud-wreath and mist, A hound that was baying -
‘WHY do You thus devise Evil against her?’ ‘For that She is beautiful, delicate; Therefore.’
In a cave born (Mary said) In a cave is My Son buried