Why do the lilies goggle their ton… When I pluck them; And writhe and twist, And strangle themselves against my… So that I can hardly weave the ga…

Cross-ribboned shoes; a muslin gow… High-waisted, girdled with bright… A straw poke bonnet which hid the… She pluckered her little brows int… As she picked her dainty passage t…

ONCE, in the sultry heat of mids… An Emperor caused the miniature m… To be covered with white silk, That so crowned, They might cool his eyes

High up in the apple tree climbing… With the sky above me, the earth b… Each branch is the step of a wonde… Which leads to the town I see shi… Climbing, climbing, higher and hig…

Goaded and harassed in the factory That tears our life up into bits o… Ticked off upon a clock which neve… Shredding our portion of Eternity… We break away at last, and steal t…

Did the door move, or was it alway… The gladioli on the table are pale… I smell pale mauve and blue, Blue soft like bruises—putrid—oozi… The air oozes blue—mauve—

Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our h… The end lost in dream, They float past our view,

Alone, I whet my soul against the… Unwrinkled sky, with its long stre… I polish it with sunlight and pale… And damascene it with young blowin… Into the handle of my life I set

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,

Whistle under the water, Make the water bubble to the tones… I call the bluebirds song into the… Wee-kee! Wee-kee-kee! Dawn is coming,

Before me, On either side of me, I see sand. If I turn the corner of my house, I see sand,

You glow in my heart Like the flames of uncontrolled ca… But when I go to warm my hands, My clumsiness overturns the light, and then I stumble

Wild little bird, who chose thee f… To put upon the cover of this book… Who heard thee singing in the dist… The vague, far greenness of the en… When the damp freshness of the mor…

They have watered the street, It shines in the glare of lamps, Cold, white lamps, And lies Like a slow-moving river,

The throats of the little red trum… And the clangour of brass beats ag… They bray and blare at the burning… Red! Red! Coarse notes of red, Trumpeted at the blue sky.