#AmericanWriters
Tonight my love is sleeping cold Where none may see and none shall… The daisies quicken in the mold, And richer fares the meadow grass. The warding cypress pleads the ski…
A dream lies dead here. May you s… Before this place, and turn away y… Nor seek to know the look of that… Importuning Life for life. Walk n… But, for a little, let your step b…
For this my mother wrapped me warm… And called me home against the sto… And coaxed my infant nights to qui… And gave me roughage in my diet, And tucked me in my bed at eight,
When first we saw the apple tree The boughs were dark and straight, But never grief to give had we, Though Spring delayed so late. When last I came away from there
I. The Minor Poet His little trills and chirpings we… No music like the nightingale’s wa… Within his throat; but he, too, la… Upon a thorn.
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;
And let her loves, when she is dea… Write this above her bones: “No more she lives to give us brea… Who asked her only stones.”
Dearest one, when I am dead Never seek to follow me. Never mount the quiet hill Where the copper leaves are still, As my heart is, on the tree
Such glorious faith as fills your… Dear little friend of mine, I nev… All-innocent are you, and yet all-… (For Heaven’s sake, stop worrying… You look about, and all you see is…
They laid their hands upon my head… They stroked my cheek and brow; And time could heal a hurt, they s… And time could dim a vow. And they were pitiful and mild
I was seventy-seven, come August, I shall shortly be losing my bloom… I’ve experienced zephyr and raw gu… And (symbolical) flood and simoom. When you come to this time of abat…
Now it’s over, and now it’s done; Why does everything look the same? Just as bright, the unheeding sun,… Can’t it see that the parting came… People hurry and work and swear,
My garden blossoms pink and white, A place of decorous murmuring, Where I am safe from August night And cannot feel the knife of Spri… And I may walk the pretty place
And if, my friend, you’d have it e… There’s naught to hear or tell. But need you try to black my eye In wishing me farewell. Though I admit an edged wit
Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt… And drink your rushing words with… And paint my mouth for you a fragr… And trace your brows with tutored… When you rehearse your list of lov…