#AmericanWriters
IN a Yiddish eating place on Riv… They know it is September on Rivi… Here the children snozzle at milk… Here the stranger wonders how so m…
HAVE I told any man to be a liar… Have I sold ice to the poor in su… Have I given any man an earful to… Have I put wool in my own ears wh… Have I taken dollars from the liv…
MY head knocks against the stars. My feet are on the hilltops. My finger-tips are in the valleys… universal life. Down in the sounding foam of prima…
WHILE the hum and the hurry Of passing footfalls Beat in my ear like the restless s… Of a wind-blown sea, A soul came to me
IN the Shenandoah Valley, one rider gray and one rider blue, and the sun on the riders wondering. Piled in the Shenandoah, riders blue and riders gray, piled with shovels, one and ano...
GOLD of a ripe oat straw, gold o… Canada thistle blue and flimmering… Tomatoes shining in the October s… Shining five and six in a row on a… Why do you keep wishes on your fac…
THE SINS of Kalamazoo are neit… The sins of Kalamazoo are a convi… And the people who sin the sins of… They run to drabs and grays-and so… Yes, Kalamazoo is a spot on the m…
I DON’T know how he came, shambling, dark, and strong. He stood in the city and told men: My people are fools, my people are… Always he kept on asking: Where d…
THE shadows of the ships Rock on the crest In the low blue lustre Of the tardy and the soft inrollin… A long brown bar at the dip of the…
YOU never come back. I say good-by when I see you goin… The hopeless open doors that call… And take you then for—how many cen… How many cents for the sleepy eyes…
I DON’T blame the kettle drums-t… And the snare drums-I know what t… And the harring booming bass drums… The howling spears of the Northwe… The lullabies of the Southwest ge…
THERE’S Chamfort. He’s a sampl… Locked himself in his library with… Shot off his nose and shot out his… And this Chamfort knew how to wri… And thousands read his books on ho…
THE monotone of the rain is beaut… And the sudden rise and slow relap… Of the long multitudinous rain. The sun on the hills is beautiful, Or a captured sunset sea-flung,
THE SHEETS of night mist trave… I know why you came at sundown in… What was it we touched asking noth… How many times can death come and… In the oath of the sod, the lips t…
THERE was a wild pigeon came oft… Gray wings that wrote their loops… There was a wild pigeon. There was a summer came year by ye… Rainy months and sunny and pigeons…