#AmericanWriters
Lady, if you’d slumber sound, Keep your eyes upon the ground. If you’d toss and turn at night, Slip your glances left and right. Would the mornings find you gay,
Travel, trouble, music, art, A kiss, a frock, a rhyme– I never said they feed my heart, But still they pass my time.
The ladies men admire, I’ve heard… Would shudder at a wicked word. Their candle gives a single light; They’d rather stay at home at nigh… They do not keep awake till three,
I shall tread, another year, Ways I walked with Grief, Past the dry, ungarnered ear And the brittle leaf. I shall stand, a year apart,
Hope it was that tutored me, And Love that taught me more; And now I learn at Sorrow’s knee The self-same lore.
“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
In youth, it was a way I had To do my best to please, And change, with every passing lad… To suit his theories. But now I know the things I know,
[and scarcely worth the trouble, a… The same to me are somber days and… Though Joyous dawns the rosy morn… Because my dearest love is gone aw… Within my heart is melancholy nigh…
I met a man the other day– A kindly man, and serious– Who viewed me in a thoughtful way, And spoke me so, and spoke me thus… “Oh, dallying’s a sad mistake;
Now this must be the sweetest plac… From here to heaven’s end; The field is white with flowering… The birches leap and bend, The hills, beneath the roving sun,
In April, in April, My one love came along, And I ran the slope of my high hi… To follow a thread of song. His eyes were hard as porphyry
Razors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren’t lawful;
Should Heaven send me any son, I hope he’s not like Tennyson. I’d rather have him play a fiddle Than rise and bow and speak an idy…
Back of my back, they talk of me, Gabble and honk and hiss; Let them batten, and let them be– Me, I can sing them this: “Better to shiver beneath the star…
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