#AmericanWriters
Whose love is given over-well Shall look on Helen’s face in hel… Whilst those whose love is thin an… May view John Knox in Paradise.
When my eyes are weeds, And my lips are petals, spinning Down the wind that has beginning Where the crumpled beeches start In a fringe of salty reeds;
“It’s queer,” she said; “I see th… As plain as I beheld it then, All silver—like and calm and brigh… We’ve not had stars like that agai… ”And she was such a gentle thing
There’s a place I know where the… And wayward vines go roaming, Where the lilacs nod, and a marble… Is pale, in scented gloaming. And at sunset there comes a lady f…
So delicate my hands, and long, They might have been my pride. And there were those to make them… Who for their touch had died. Too frail to cup a heart within,
So silent I when Love was by He yawned, and turned away; But Sorrow clings to my apron-str… I have so much to say.
The sun’s gone dim, and The moon’s turned black; For I loved him, and He didn’t love back.
If you should sail for Trebizond,… Or cry another name in your first… Or see me board a train, and fail… Appropriately, I’d clutch my brea… And you, if I should wander throu…
Although I work, and seldom cease… At Dumas pere and Dumas fils, Alas, I cannot make me care For Dumas fils and Dumas pere.
Unto seventy years and seven, Hide your double birthright well– You, that are the brat of Heaven And the pampered heir to Hell. Let your rhymes be tinsel treasure…
Always I knew that it could not l… (Gathering clouds, and the snowfla… Now it is part of the golden past (Darkening skies, and the night-wi… It is but cowardice to pretend.
Daily dawns another day; I must up, to make my way. Though I dress and drink and eat, Move my fingers and my feet, Learn a little, here and there,
When I was young and bold and str… Oh, right was right, and wrong was… My plume on high, my flag unfurled… I rode away to right the world. “Come out, you dogs, and fight!” s…
She that begs a little boon (Heel and toe! Heel and toe!) Little gets– and nothing, soon. (No, no, no! No, no, no!) She that calls for costly things
Maidens, gather not the yew, Leave the glossy myrtle sleeping; Any lad was born untrue, Never a one is fit your weeping. Pretty dears, your tumult cease;