#AmericanWriters
“Hullo, Alice!” “Hullo, Leon!” “Say, Alice, gi’ me a couple O’ them two for five cigars, Will yer?”
You are beautiful and faded Like an old opera tune Played upon a harpsichord; Or like the sun-flooded silks Of an eighteenth-century boudoir.
Where else in all America are we… As in this hall? White columns polished like glass, A dome and a dome, A balcony and a balcony,
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…
A great tall column spearing at th… With a little man on top. Goodnes… He looks a silly thing enough to s… What a strange fellow, like a sold… Tight-fitting coat with the tails…
A near horizon whose sharp jags Cut brutally into a sky Of leaden heaviness, and crags Of houses lift their masonry Ugly and foul, and chimneys lie
Leisure, thou goddess of a bygone… When hours were long and days suff… Wide-eyed delights and pleasures u… By shortening moments, when no gau… Of undone duties, modern heritage,
The lawyer, are you? Well! I ain’t got nothin’ to say… Nothin’! I told the perlice I hadn’t nothi… They know’d real well 'twas me.
Spread on the roadway, With open-blown jackets, Like black, soaring pinions, They swoop down the hillside, The Cyclists.
I own a solace shut within my hear… A garden full of many a quaint del… And warm with drowsy, poppied suns… Flaming with lilies out of whose c… Shining things
Pale, with the blue of high zenith… In smooth, running patterns, a sof… Warm from a woman’s soft shoulders… Where is she, the woman who wore i… A languor, fire-shotted, runs thro…
Panels of claret and blue which sh… Under the moon like lees of wine. A coronet done in a golden scroll, And wheels which blunder and creak… Through the muddy ruts of a moorla…
Slowly, without force, the rain dr… on the carved head of Saint John,… over his stone cloak. It splashes… and falls from it in turmoil on th… Where are the people, and why does…
Poor foolish monarch, vacillating,… Decaying victim of a race of kings… Swift Destiny shook out her purpl… And caught him in their shadow; no… Could furtive plotting smear anoth…
By day you cannot see the sky For it is up so very high. You look and look, but it’s so blu… That you can never see right throu… But when night comes it is quite p…