#AmericanWriters
The long night through and still a… Estranged from eyes that very wear… Makes blind to dawn.
Pain ebbs, And like cool balm, An opiate weariness Settles on eye-lids, on relaxed Pale wrists.
Hear thou my lamentation, Eros, Aphrodite’s son! My heart is broken and my days are… Where the woods are dark and the s… Eros!
Keep thou Thy tearless watch All night but when blue-dawn Breathes on the silver moon, then… Then weep!
The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!
But me They cannot touch, Old age and death. .the strange And ignominious end of old Dead folk!
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;
All day, all day I brush My golden strands of hair; All day I wait and wait.. Ah, who is there? Who calls? Who calls? The gold
THE old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that… Should weep?
Nor stars . . the dark . . and in The dark the grey Ghost glimmer of the olive trees The black straight rows Of Cypresses.
Is it as plainly in our living sho… By slant and twist, which way the…
Guardian Of The Treasure Of Sol… And Keeper Of the Prophet’s Armo… My tent A vapour that The wind dispels and but
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…
The clustered Gods, the marching… The mighty-limbed, deep-bosomed T… The shimmering grey-gold London f… I wish that Phidias could see!
Meet thou the event And terrible happening of Thine end: for thou art come Upon the remote, cold place Of ultimate dissolution and