#AmericanWriters
DIFFERENCE OF OPINION W… LYGDAMUS Tell me the truths which you hear… Lygdamus, And may the bought yoke of a mistr…
Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi
For three years, out of key with h… He strove to resuscitate the dead… Of poetry; to maintain “the sublim… In the old sense. Wrong from the… No, hardly, but seeing he had been…
For the seven lakes, and by no man… Rain; empty river; a voyage, Fire from frozen cloud, heavy rain… Under the cabin roof was one lante… The reeds are heavy; bent;
An image of Lethe, and the fields Full of faint light but golden, Gray cliffs,
Midnight, and a letter comes to me… Telling me to come to Tibur: At once!! ‘Bright tips reach up from twin to… ’Anienan spring water falls into f…
‘Tis but a vague, invarious deli… As gold that rains about some buri… As the fine flakes, When tourists frolicking Stamp on his roof or in the glazin…
The red and green kingfishers flash between the orchids and clov… One bird casts its gleam on anothe… Green vines hang through the high… They weave a whole roof to the mou…
Blue, blue is the grass about the… And the willows have overfilled th… And within, the mistress, in the m… White, white of face, hesitates, p… Slender, she puts forth a slender…
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…
Leucis, who intended a Grand Pass… Ends with a willingness-to-oblige.
A Hymn to the Dope Goddess of the murmuring courts, Nicotine, my Nicotine, Houri of the mystic sports, trailing—robed in gabardine,
We flash across the level. We thunder thro’ the bridges. We bicker down the cuttings. We sway along the ridges. A rush of streaming hedges,
To me at my fifth-floor window The chimney-pots in rows Are sets of pipes pandean For every wind that blows; And the smoke that whirls and eddi…
Her grave, sweet haughtiness Pleaseth me, and in like wise Her quiet ironies. Others are beautiful, none more, s… I suppose, when poetry comes down…