#AmericanWriters
Down, you mongrel, Death! Back into your kennel! I have stolen breath In a stalk of fennel! You shall scratch and you shall wh…
We were very tired, we were very m… We had gone back and forth all nig… It was bare and bright, and smelle… But we looked into a fire, we lean… We lay on the hill-top underneath…
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
(Nicola Sacco—Bartolomeo Vanzett… Executed August 23, 1927 As men have loved their lovers in… And sung their wit, their virtue a… So have we loved sweet Justice to…
We talk of taxes, and I call you… Well, such you are,—but well enoug… How thick about us root, how rankl… Those subtle weeds no man has need… That flourish through neglect, and…
Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,… Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more… Than small white single poppies,—… Thy beauty; though I bend before… From left to right, not knowing wh…
Sorrow like a ceaseless rain Beats upon my heart. People twist and scream in pain,— Dawn will find them still again; This has neither wax nor wane,
There it was I saw what I shall n… And never retrieve. Monstrous and beautiful to human e… believe, He lay, yet there he lay,
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…
Mindful of you the sodden earth in… And all the flowers that in the sp… And dusty roads, and thistles, and… Rising of the round moon, all thro… The summer through, and each depar…
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…
When reeds are dead and a straw to… And feathered pampas-grass rides i… Like aged warriors westward, tragi… Of half their tribe, and over the… Stripped of its secret, open, star…
As I sat down by Saddle Stream To bathe my dusty feet there, A boy was standing on the bridge Any girl would meet there. As I went over Woody Knob
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 will put Chaos into fourteen li… And keep him there; and let him th… If he be lucky; let him twist, and… Flood, fire, and demon—his adroit… Will strain to nothing in the stri…