#AmericanWriters
With swift Great sweep of her Magnificent arm my pain Clanged back the doors that shut m… From life.
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…
White doves of Cytherea, by your… Across the blue Heaven’s bluest h… And by your certain homing to Lov… Still to be true and ever true -…
Little my lacking fortunes show For this to eat and that to wear; Yet laughing, Soul, and gaily go! An obol pays the Stygian fare. London, 1910
Avis, the fair, at dawn Rose lightly from her bed, Herself arrayed, Avis, the fait, the maid, In vestiment of lawn;
The sun is warm today, O Romulus, and on Thine older Palentine the birds Still sing.
Wouldst thou find my ashes? Look In the pages of my book; And as these thy hand doth turn, Know here is my funeral urn.
Behold her, Running through the waves Eager to reach the land; The water laps her, Sun and wind are on her,
‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
As I went, as I went Over the mountains, I heard, I heard, Through cloud-wreath and mist, A hound that was baying -
These be three silent things: The falling snow . . . the hour Before the dawn . . . the mouth of… Just dead.
(Girl’s Song) In Babylon, in Nineveh, And long ago, and far away, The lilies and the lotus blew That are my sweet of youth to-day.
Have yet forgot, sweet birds, How near the heaven’s lie? Drooping, sick-pinion’d, oh Have yet forgot the sky? The air that once I knew
Sea-foam And coral! Oh, I’ll Climb the great pasture rocks And dream me mermaid in the sun’s Gold flood.