#AmericanWriters
ON the street Slung on his shoulder is a handle… Tied in a big knot on the scoop of… Are the overalls faded from sun an… Spatter of dry clay sticking yello…
BURY this old Illinois farmer wi… He slept the Illinois nights of h… Now he goes on a long sleep. The wind he listened to in the cor… The same wind will now blow over t…
They have painted and sung the women washing their hair, and the plaits and strands in the… and the golden combs and the combs of elephant tusks
I have seen The old gods go And the new gods come. Day by day And year by year
UNDER the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Death, the gray mocker,
OUT of the fire Came a man sunken To less than cinders, A tea-cup of ashes or so. And I,
SELL me a violin, mister, of old… Sell me a fiddle that has kissed d… Sell me dried wood that has ached… Sell me horsehair and rosin that h… Sell me something crushed in the h…
Into the blue river hills The red sun runners go And the long sand changes And to-day is a goner And to-day is not worth haggling o…
ROSES and gold For you today, And the flash of flying flags. I will have Ashes,
SHAKEN, The blossoms of lilac, And shattered, The atoms of purple. Green dip the leaves,
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…
(March, 1919)A LIAR goes in fin… A liar goes in rags. A liar is a liar, clothes or no cl… A liar is a liar and lives on the… And the stonecutters earn a living…
STUFF of the moon Runs on the lapping sand Out to the longest shadows. Under the curving willows, And round the creep of the wave li…
EMPTY battlefields keep their ph… Grass crawls over old gun wheels And a nodding Canada thistle flin… Into the summer’s southwest wind, Wrapping a root in the rust of a b…
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…