WHAT cry of peach blossoms let loose on the air today I heard with my face thrown in the pink-white of it all? in the red whisper of it all?

‘The past is a bucket of ashes.’ THE WOMAN named To-morrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time and does her hair the way she want…

FOR a woman’s face remembered as a spot of quick light on the flat land of dark night, For this memory of one mouth and a forehead they go on in the gray rain and the mud, they go on ...

WHEN Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs, he forgot the copperheads and the assassin … in the dust, in the cool tombs. And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall S...

AMONG the red guns, In the hearts of soldiers Running free blood In the long, long campaign: Dreams go on.

IN the morning, a Sunday morning, shadows of sea and adumbrants of rock in her eyes... horseback in leather boots and leather gauntlets by the sea. In the evening, a Sunday evening, a r...

THE working girls in the morning… long lines of them afoot amid the… and factories, thousands with litt… lunches wrapped in newspapers unde… Each morning as I move through th…

ELSIE FLIMMERWON, you got a… The houses go wild when you finish… It is long ago, Elsie Flimmerwon,… It is long ago, Elsie, and now th… Then you were a little thing in ch…

Tall timber stood here once, hee o… Here the roots of a half-mile of t… Then the axemen came and the chips… Dynamite, wagons, and horses took… It would come hard now for this ha…

THIRTY-TWO Greeks are dipping… Sloshing their bare feet in a cool… All one midsummer day ten hours th… stand in leather shoes shoveling g… Now they hold their toes and ankle…

I saw a famous man eating soup. I say he was lifting a fat broth Into his mouth with a spoon. His name was in the newspapers tha… Spelled out in tall black headline…

JOY... weaving two violet petals for a coat lapel... painting on a slab of night sky a Christ face... slipping new brass keys into rusty iron locks and shouldering till at last the door...

Make rhythms up to the ragtime chatter of the machine guns; Make slow-booming psalms up to the boom of the big guns. Make a marching song of swinging arms and swinging legs, On ...

speak, sir, and be wise. Speak choosing your words, sir, li…

IN the night, when the sea-winds… And cool the loud streets that kep… In the night, when the sea-birds c… The lights that cut on the skyline… In the night, when the trains and…