#AmericanWriters
I know I am but summer to your he… And not the full four seasons of t… And you must welcome from another… Such noble moods as are not mine,… No gracious weight of golden fruit…
I looked in my heart while the wil… And what did I see I had not seen… Only a question less or a question… Nothing to match the flight of wil… Tiresome heart, forever living and…
Aye, but she? Your other sister and my other sou… Grave Silence, lovelier Than the three loveliest maidens,… Clio, not you,
When I too long have looked upon… Wherein for me a brightness unobsc… Save by the mists of brightness ha… And terrible beauty not to be endu… I turn away reluctant from your li…
If I grow bitterly, Like a gnarled and stunted tree, Bearing harshly of my youth Puckered fruit that sears the mout… If I make of my drawn boughs
Be to her, Persephone, All the things I might not be: Take her head upon your knee. She that was so proud and wild, Flippant, arrogant and free,
If I were to walk this way Hand in hand with Grief, I should mark that maple-spray Coming into leaf. I should note how the old burrs
Heap not on this mound Roses that she loved so well: Why bewilder her with roses, That she cannot see or smell? She is happy where she lies
Oh, lay my ashes on the wind That blows across the sea. And I shall meet a fisherman Out of Capri, And he will say, seeing me,
Listen, children: Your father is dead. From his old coats I’ll make you little jackets; I’ll make you little trousers
The trees along this city street, Save for the traffic and the train… Would make a sound as thin and swe… As trees in country lanes. And people standing in their shade
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!
Give away her gowns, Give away her shoes; She has no more use For her fragrant gowns; Take them all down,
What lips my lips have kissed, and… I have forgotten, and what arms ha… Under my head till morning; but th… Is full of ghosts tonight, that ta… Upon the glass and listen for repl…
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…