#AmericanWriters
The baby new to earth and sky Has never until now Unto himself the question put Or asked us if the cow Is higher in the mental scale
Rest Master, for we be a-weary, w… And would feel the fingers of the… Upon these lids that lie over us Sodden and lead-heavy. Rest brother, for lo! the dawn is…
Who, who will be the next man to e… Love interferes with fidelities; The gods have brought shame on the… Each man wants the pomegranate for… Amiable and harmonious people are…
The West a glimmering lake of lig… A dream of pearly weather, The first of stars is burning whit… The star we watch together. Is April dead? The unresting year
The petals fall in the fountain, the orange-coloured rose-leaves, Their ochre clings to the stone.
Thick is the darkness - Sunward, O, sunward! Rough is the highway - Onward, still onward! Dawn harbours surely
Heaven’s worry, scurries to earth; twisted planning, what’s to block… At sight of good plan, they turn t… the sight of their planning gives me a pain.
Young men riding in the street In the bright new season Spur without reason Causing their steeds to leap. And at the pace they keep
Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi
“Pan is dead. Great Pan is dead. Ah! bow your heads, ye maidens all… And weave ye him his coronal.” “There is no summer in the leaves, And withered are the sedges;
M. Pom-POM allait en guerre Per vendere cannoni Mon beau grand frère Ne peut plus voir Per vendere cannoni.
A Hymn to the Dope Goddess of the murmuring courts, Nicotine, my Nicotine, Houri of the mystic sports, trailing—robed in gabardine,
May I for my own self song’s trut… Journey’s jargon, how I in harsh… Hardship endured oft. Bitter breast—cares have I abided… Known on my keel many a care’s hol…
A square, squat room (a cellar on… Drab to the soul, drab to the very… Plasters astray in unnatural-looki… Scissors and lint and apothecary’s… Here, on a bench a skeleton would…
These fought in any case, and some believing pro domo, in any case ..... Died some, pro patria, walked eye—deep in hell