#AmericanWriters
Streaks of green and yellow irides… Silver shiftings, Rings veering out of rings, Silver —gold — Grey-green opaqueness sliding down…
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,
I have painted a picture of a ghos… Upon my kite, And hung it on a tree. Later, when I loose the string And let it fly,
MY thoughts Chink against my ribs And roll about like silver hail-st… I should like to spill them out, And pour them, all shining,
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…
You are like the stem Of a young beech-tree, Straight and swaying, Breaking out in golden leaves. Your walk is like the blowing of a…
Outside the long window, With his head on the stone sill, The dog is lying, Gazing at his Beloved. His eyes are wet and urgent,
All day long I have been working, Now I am tired I call: “Where are you?” But there is only the oak-tree rus… The house is very quiet,
The vine leaves against the brick… Are rusty and broken. Dead leaves gather under the pine-… The brittle boughs of lilac-bushes Sweep against the stars.
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum. I call out for you against the jut… And shout into the ridges of the w…
Who shall declare the joy of the r… Who shall tell of the pleasures of… Springing and spurning the tufts o… Sweeping, wide-winged, through the… Everything mortal has moments immo…
The stars hang thick in the apple… The south wind smells of the punge… Gold tulip cups are heavy with dew… The night’s for you, Sweetheart,… Starfire rains from the vaulted bl…
You ask me for a sonnet. Ah, my D… Can clocks tick back to yesterday… Can cracked and fallen leaves reca… And leap up on the boughs, now sti… For your sake, I would go and see…
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
When you, my Dear, are away, away… How wearily goes the creeping day. A year drags after morning, and ni… Starts another year of candle ligh… O Pausing Sun and Lingering Moon…