#AmericanWriters
Not spring’s Thou art, but hers, Most cool, most virginal, Winter’s, with thy faint breath, t… Rose-tinged.
Thou hast Drawn laughter from A well of secret tears And thence so elvish it rings, –mo… And sweet.
Three grey women walk with me Fate and Grief and Memory. My fate brought grief; my grief mu… With me through Eternity, Such thy power, memory.
Is it as plainly in our living sho… By slant and twist, which way the…
But me They cannot touch, Old age and death. .the strange And ignominious end of old Dead folk!
Every day, Every day, Tell the hours By their shadows, By their shadows.
The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!
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?
Sun and wind and beat of sea, Great lands stretching endlessly’… Where be bonds to bind the free? All the world was made for me!
The long night through and still a… Estranged from eyes that very wear… Makes blind to dawn.
The immemorial grief of all years Burdes my heart sorely, and the ye… Of slow eternal crying stain my ch… Forever and forever my soul speaks Saying: I am thy self: Look on me…
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
More dim than wining moon Thy face, mort faint Than is the falling wind Thy voice, yet do Thine eyes most strangely glow,
These be three silent things: The falling snow . . . the hour Before the dawn . . . the mouth of… Just dead.
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.