#AmericanWriters
Look up . . . From bleakening hills Blows down the light, first breath Of wintry wind . . . look up, and… The snow!
If illness’ end be health regained… Will pay you, Asculapeus, when I…
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…
A flickering light near spent Her pale hand bore. Have you seen Angelique? Will she know the place Dead feet must find,
Oh Lady, let the sad tears fall To speak thy pain, Gently as through the silver dusk The silver rain. Oh, let thy bosom breathe its grie…
The shadowy boy of night Crosses the dusking land; He sows his poppy-seeds With steady, gentle hand. The shadowy boy of night
Fugitive, wistful, Pausing at edge of her going, Autumn, the maiden, turns, Leans to the earth with ineffable Gesture. Ah, more than
Fate Defied As it Were tissue of silver I’ll wear, O fate, thy grey, And go mistily radiant, clad
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…
Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,
Was it love breathed on us as on t… Dawn breathes for a short space an… Or loved we never at all who but m… With too dim vision the guarded my… Were we unfaithful or were we unwi…
I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.
Behold her, Running through the waves Eager to reach the land; The water laps her, Sun and wind are on her,
Reap, reap the grain and gather The sweet grapes from the vine; Our Lord’s mother is weeping, She hath nor bread nor wine; She is weeping. The Queen of Hea…
The sun is warm today, O Romulus, and on Thine older Palentine the birds Still sing.