#AmericanWriters
Hold your apron wide That I may pour my gifts into it, So that scarcely shall your two ar… From falling to the ground. I would pour them upon you
Lilacs, False blue, White, Purple, Color of lilac,
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,
Swirl of crowded streets. Shock a… brick facade of an old church, aga… lurch and withdraw. Flare of sunsh… in the windows of chemists’ shops,… darting colours far into the crowd…
You want to know what’s the matter… My! ain’t men blinder’n moles? It ain’t nothin’ new, be sure o’ t… Why, ef you’d had eyes you’d ha’ s… Me changin’ under your very nose,
Slipping softly through the sky Little horned, happy moon, Can you hear me up so high? Will you come down soon? On my nursery window-sill
This little bowl is like a mossy p… In a Spring wood, where dogtooth… Nodding in chequered sunshine of t… A quiet place, still, with the sou… Where, though unseen, is heard the…
Holy Mother of God, Merciful Mar… from a village miles away, all day… far roaming. I cannot walk as ligh… I am heavier than I was. Mary Mo… Beautiful Holy Lady, take my sham…
In the cloud gray mornings I heard the herons Flying And when I came into my garden, My silken outer-garment Trailed over withered leaves.
An arid daylight shines along the… Dried to a grey monotony of tone, And stranded jelly-fish melt soft… The sun-baked pebbles, far beyond… Sparkles a wet, reviving sea. Her…
Between us leapt a gold and scarle… Into the hollow of the cupped, arc… Of Heaven it rose. Its flickering… And vanished in the sunshine. How… We guessed not, nor what thing cou…
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…
Over the yawning chimney hangs the… fall the raindrops on the oaken lo… and smokes the ceiling beams. Drip… The wide, state bed shivers beneat… in the smoke, a tarnished coronet…
They have watered the street, It shines in the glare of lamps, Cold, white lamps, And lies Like a slow-moving river,
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…