#AmericanWriters
Not thou, White rose, but thy Ensanguined sister is The dear companion of my heart’s Shed blood.
When I was girl by Nilus stream I watched the deserts stars arise; My lover, he who dreamed the Sphi… Learned all his dreaming from eyes… I bore in Greece a burning name,
Little Sister Rose-Marie, Will thy feet as willing-light Run through Paradise, I wonder, As they run the blue skies under, Willing feet, so airy-light?
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;
No guile? Nay, but so strangely He moves among us. . Not this Man but Barabbas! Release to us Barabbas!
I have no heart for noon-tide and… But I will take me where more ten… Shakes, fold on fold, her dewy dar… And shelters me that I may weep i… And feel no pitying eyes, and hear…
Is it as plainly in our living sho… By slant and twist, which way the…
I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.
Look up . . . From bleakening hills Blows down the light, first breath Of wintry wind . . . look up, and… The snow!
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
Than spring’s new scents The winter’s earliest wind Blows from the hills the first fai… Of Snow. Why have I
The long night through and still a… Estranged from eyes that very wear… Makes blind to dawn.
Keep thou Thy tearless watch All night but when blue-dawn Breathes on the silver moon, then… Then weep!
As it Were tissue of silver I’ll wear, O Fate, thy grey, And go mistily radiant, clad Like the moon.
Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?