#AmericanWriters
Rudyard the dud yard, Rudyard the false measure, Told 'em that glory Ain’t always a pleasure, But said it wuz glorious neverthel…
IN o more for us the little sighi… No more the winds at twilight trou… Lo the fair dead! No more do I burn. No more for us the fluttering of w…
The Past was goodly once, and yet… The best of it we know is that it’… Dwindled and faded quite, perished… Nothing is left at last of what on… Coming back like a ghost, staring…
‘Being no longer human, why shou… Pretend humanity or don the frail… Men have I known and men, but nev… Was grown so free an essence, or b… So simply element as what I am.
While the west is paling Starshine is begun. While the dusk is failing Glimmers up the sun. So, till darkness cover
Cydonian Spring with her attendan… Maelids and water-girls, Stepping beneath a boisterous wind… Throughout this sylvan place Spreads the bright tips,
The petals fall in the fountain, the orange-coloured rose-leaves, Their ochre clings to the stone.
All the while they were talking th… Her eyes explored me. And when I rose to go Her fingers were like the tissue Of a Japanese paper napkin.
When, when, and whenever death clo… Moving naked over Acheron Upon the one raft, victor and conq… Marius and Jugurtha together, one tangle of shadows.
Come, my songs, let us express our… Let us express our envy for the ma… You are very idle, my songs, I fear you will come to a bad end. You stand about the streets, You…
The narrow streets cut into the wi… Dark oxen, white horses, drag on the seven coaches with out… The coaches are perfumed wood, The jewelled chair is held up at t…
O strange face there in the glass! O ribald company, O saintly host, O sorrow-swept my fool, What answer? O ye myriad That strive? and play and pass,
With minds still hovering above th… Certain poets here and in France Still sigh over established and na… Long since fully discussed by Ovi… They howl. They complain in delic…
Golden rose the house, in the port… thee, a marvel, carven in subtle s… portent. Life died down in the lam… caught at the wonder. Crimson, frosty with dew, the rose…
What is to come we know not. But… That what has been was good—was go… Better to hide, and best of all to… We are the masters of the days tha… We have lived, we have loved, we h…