#AmericanWriters
Thin-voiced, nasal pipes Drawing sound out and out Until it is a screeching thread, Sharp and cutting, sharp and cutti… It hurts.
This afternoon was the colour of w… The trees glittered with the tumbl… The sidewalks shone like alleys of… And the houses ran along them laug… Under a tree in the park,
The Fool Errant sat by the highwa… And his gaze wandered up and his g… A vigorous youth, but with no wish… Yet his longing was great for the… He whistled a little frivolous tun…
Great master! Boyish, sympathetic… Whose orbed and ripened genius lig… From life’s slim, twisted tendril… In crimson-sphered completeness; g… Of crystal portals through whose o…
Thou yellow trumpeter of laggard… Thou herald of rich Summer’s myri… The climbing sun with new recovere… Does warm thee into being, through… Of rich, brown earth he woos thee,…
My cup is empty to-night, Cold and dry are its sides, Chilled by the wind from the open… Empty and void, it sparkles white… The room is filled with the strang…
The inkstand is full of ink, and t… in the round of light thrown by a… the corners, and keep rolling thro… is silver and pearl, for the night… See how the roof glitters, like ic…
Dearest, forgive that with my clum… I broke and bruised your rose. I hardly could suppose It were a thing so fragile that my… Could kill it, thus.
A yellow band of light upon the st… Pours from an open door, and makes… Pathway of bright gold across a sh… Of calm and liquid moonshine. Fro… Come shouts and streams of laughte…
In the brown water, Thick and silver-sheened in the su… Liquid and cool in the shade of th… A pike dozed. Lost among the shadows of stems
I want no horns to rouse me up to-… And trumpets make too clamorous a… To fit my mood, it is so weary whi… I have no wish for doing any thing… A music coaxed from humming string…
How the slates of the roof sparkle… beyond the high wall! How quietly… over there, over there, sliding th… of the line, stately with canvas,… over the glittering roof, over the…
Tell me, Was Venus more beautiful Than you are, When she topped The crinkled waves,
The Bell in the convent tower swu… High overhead the great sun hung, A navel for the curving sky. The air was a blue clarity. Swallows flew,
Thou dear and well-loved haunt of… How often in some distant gallery, Gained by a little painful spiral… Far from the halls and corridors w… The crowd of casual readers, have…