This flower is repeated out of old winds, out of old times. The wind repeats these, it must have these, over and

PAPA JOFFRE, the shoulders of him wide as the land of France. We look on the shoulders filling the stage of the Chicago Auditorium. A fat mayor has spoken much English and the mud o...

AMONG the shadows where two stre… A woman lurks in the dark and wait… To move on when a policeman heaves… Smiling a broken smile from a face Painted over haggard bones and des…

GUNS on the battle lines have po… between Brussels and Paris. And, William Morris, when I read… the great arches and naves and lit… corners of the Churches of Northe…

FOR the second time in a year thi… Her husband is a cornice manufactu… Yesterday she washed her hands for… Now the head physician touches his…

SOMEBODY loses whenever somebo… This was known to the Chaldeans l… And more: somebody wins whenever s… This too was in the savvy of the… They take it heaven’s hereafter is…

FROM the time of the early radis… To the time of the standing corn Sleepy Henry Hackerman hoes. There are laws in the village agai… The law says a weed is wrong and s…

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…

Have I broken the smaller taberna… And in the destruction of these se… I know nothing today, what I have… They were beautiful in a way, thes… They were beautiful—why did the hy…

COOL your heels on the rail of a… Let the engineer open her up for n… Take in the prairie right and left… A gray village flecks by and the h… A barnyard and fifteen Holstein c…

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…

This town belongs to the Dead, to the Dead and to the Wilderness. Back of the clamps on a fireproof door they hold the papers of the Dead in a house here And when two living men fall ou...

There is a blue star, Janet, Fifteen years’€™ ride from us, If we ride a hundred miles an hour… There is a white star, Janet, Forty years’€™ ride from us,

I waited today for a freight train… Cattle cars with steers butting th… bars, went by. And a half a dozen hoboes stood on… cars.

IN western fields of corn and nor… They talk about me, a saloon with… The soft red lights, the long curv… The leather seats and dim corners, Tall brass spittoons, a nigger cut…