#AmericanWriters
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…
Forever the impenetrable wall Of self confines my poor rebelliou… I never see the towering white clo… Before a sturdy wind, save through… Barred window of my jail. I live…
“So . . .” they said, With their wine-glasses delicately… Mocking at the thing they cannot u… “So . . .” they said again, Amused and insolent.
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.
Naughty little speckled trout, Can’t I coax you to come out? Is it such great fun to play In the water every day? Do you pull the Naiads’ hair
I have whetted my brain until it i… So keen that it nicks off the floa… So sharp that the air would turn i… Were it to be twisted in flight. Licking passions have bitten their…
O You, Who came upon me once Stretched under apple-trees just a… Why did you not strangle me before… Rather than fill me with the wild…
Red slippers in a shop-window, and outside in the street, flaws of grey, windy sleet! Behind the polished glass, the slippers hang in long threads of red, festooning from the ceili...
I will mix me a drink of stars, — Large stars with polychrome needle… Small stars jetting maroon and cri… Cool, quiet, green stars. I will tear them out of the sky,
When I have baked white cakes And grated green almonds to spread… When I have picked the green crow… And piled them, cone-pointed, in a… When I have smoothed the seam of…
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…
How long shall I tarnish the mirr… A spatter of rust on its polished… The seasons reel Like a goaded wheel. Half-numb, half-maddened, my days…
Red slippers in a shop-window; and outside in the street, flaws of gray, windy sleet! Behind the polished glass the slippers hang in long threads of red, festooning from the ceiling li...
The chatter of little people Breaks on my purpose Like the water-drops which slowly… And while I laugh My spirit crumbles at their teasin…
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…