#AmericanWriters
Death devours all lovely things; Lesbia with her sparrow Shares the darkness,—presently Every bed is narrow. Unremembered as old rain
And you as well must die, belovèd… And all your beauty stand you in n… This flawless, vital hand, this pe… This body of flame and steel, befo… Of Death, or under his autumnal f…
I knew her for a little ghost That in my garden walked; The wall is high—higher than most— And the green gate was locked. And yet I did not think of that
Cut if you will, with Sleep’s dul… Each day to half its length, my fr… The years that Time take off my l… He’ll take from off the other end!
I dreamed I moved among the Elysi… In converse with sweet women long… And out of blossoms which that mea… I wove a garland for your living h… Danai, that was the vessel for a d…
How shall I know, unless I go To Cairo and Cathay, Whether or not this blessed spot Is blest in every way? Now it may be, the flower for me
Only until this cigarette is ended… A little moment at the end of all, While on the floor the quiet ashes… And in the firelight to a lance ex… Bizarrely with the jazzing music b…
I know the face of Falsehood and… Honeyed with unction, Plausible w… Are dear to men, whom count me not… That owe their daily credit to her… Such have been succoured out of gr…
All I could see from where I stoo… Was three long mountains and a woo… I turned and looked another way, And saw three islands in a bay. So with my eyes I traced the line
I shall go back again to the bleak… And build a little shanty on the s… In such a way that the extremest b… Of brittle seaweed shall escape my… But by a yard or two; and nevermor…
Just a rainy day or two In a windy tower, That was all I had of you— Saving half an hour. Marred by greeting passing groups
I think I will learn some beautif… Purposes, work hard at that. I think I will learn the Latin na… America but wherever they sing. (Shun meditation, though; invite t…
Time does not bring relief; you al… Who told me time would ease me of… I miss him in the weeping of the r… I want him at the shrinking of the… The old snows melt from every moun…
Searching my heart for its true so… This is the thing I find to be: That I am weary of words and peop… Sick of the city, wanting the sea; Wanting the sticky, salty sweetnes…
So, art thou feahered, art thou fl… Thou naked thing?—and canst alone Upon the unsolid summer air Sustain thyself, and prosper there… Shall no more with anxious note
