#AmericanWriters
Joy! Joy! Joy! The hills are glad, The valleys re-echo with merriment… In my heart is the sound of laught… And my feet dance to the time of i…
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;
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.
I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.
Lo, All the Way, Look you, I said, the clouds will… Grow clear, the road Be easier for my travelling the fi… So sodden and dead,
The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!
Listen . . . With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break f… And fall.
Never the nightingale, Oh, my dear, Never again the lark Thou wilt hear; Though dusk and the morning still
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…
With night’s Dim veil and blue I will cover my eyes, I will bind close my eyes that are So weary.
‘Let me be young,’ the Latmian sh… ‘And let me have on night-time hil… Whom she of Cynthus saw, Heaven’s… And gave his youth and dreams her… What news comrade upon the mountai…
He comes from Mass early in the m… The sky’s the very blue Madonna w… The air’s alive with gold! Mark y… The birds sing and the dusted shim… On leaf and fruit?..Per Bacco, wh…
JUST now, Out of the strange Still dusk . . . as strange, as st… A white moth flew . . . Why am I… So cold?
The sun is warm today, O Romulus, and on Thine older Palentine the birds Still sing.