#Americans #Women
Within my house of patterned horn I sleep in such a bed As men may keep before they’re bor… And after when they’re dead. Sticks and stones may break their…
Say not of beauty she is good, Or aught but beautiful, Or sleek to doves’ wings of the wo… Her wild wings of a gull. Call her not wicked; that word’s t…
The rain’s cold grains are silver-… Sharp as golden sands, A bell is clanging, people sway Hanging by their hands. Supple hands, or gnarled and stiff…
Stripping an almond tree in flower The wise apothecary’s skill A single drop of lethal power From perfect sweetness can distill From bitterness in efflorescence,
Beauty has a tarnished dress, And a patchwork cloak of cloth Dipped deep in mournfulness, Striped like a moth. Wet grass where it trails
Why should my sleepy heart be taug… To whistle mocking-bird replies? This is another bird you’ve caught… Soft-feathered, with a falcon’s ey… The bird Imagination,
Liza, go steep your long white han… In the cool waters of that spring Which bubbles up through shiny san… The colour of a wild-dove’s wing. Dabble your hands, and steep them…
Let us walk in the white snow In a soundless space; With footsteps quiet snd slow, At a tranquil pace, Under veils of white lace.
The sailorman’s child And the girl of the witch— They can’t be defiled By touching pitch. The sailorman’s son
I saw a Tiger’s golden flank, I saw what food he ate, By a desert spring he drank; The Tiger’s name was Hate. Then I saw a placid Lamb
Hate in the world’s hand Can carve and set its seal Like the strong blast of sand Which cuts into steel. I have seen how the finger of hate
I was always afraid of Somes’s Po… Not the little pond, by which the… Where laughing boys catch alewives… In brown, bright shallows; but the… There, where the frost makes all t…
Now let no charitable hope Confuse my mind with images Of eagle and of antelope: I am by nature none of these. I was, being human, born alone;
Avoid the reeking herd, Shun the polluted flock, Live like that stoic bird, The eagle of the rock. The huddled warmth of crowds
This is the bricklayer; hear the t… Of his heavy load dumped down on s… His lustrous bricks are brighter t… His smoking mortar whiter than bon… Set each sharp-edged, fire-bitten…