#AmericanWriters
WITH strawberries we filled a tr… And then we drove away, away Along the links beside the sea, Where wave and wind were light and… And August felt as fresh as May.
Thou keep’st thy rose-leaf Till the rose-time will be over, Think’st thou that Death will kis… Think’st thou that the Dark House Will find thee such a lover
You came in out of the night And there were flowers in your han… Now you will come out of a confusi… Out of a turmoil of speech about y… I who have seen you amid the prima…
Chiming a dream by the way With ocean’s rapture and roar, I met a maiden to-day Walking alone on the shore: Walking in maiden wise,
The sun rises in south east corner… To look on the tall house of the… For they have a daughter named Ra… (pretty girl) She made the name for herself: ‘G…
The tree has entered my hands, The sap has ascended my arms, The tree has grown in my breast— Downward, The branches grow out of me, like…
I can not bow to woo thee With honey words and flower kisses And the dew of sweet half—truths Fallen on the grass of old quaint… Of broidered days foredone.
This is another of our ancient lov… Pass and be silent, Rullus, for t… Hath lacked a something since this… Hath lacked a something. ’Twas bu…
The Spirit of Wine Sang in my glass, and I listened With love to his odorous music, His flushed and magnificent song. —'I am health, I am heart, I am l…
`Tis of my country that I would e… In hope to set some misconceptions… My country? I love it well, and t… Who, since their wit’s unknown, es… But you stuffed coats who’re neith…
Simon Zelotes speaketh it somewhi… Ha’ we lost the goodliest fere o’… For the priests and the gallows tr… Aye lover he was of brawny men, O’ ships and the open sea.
The spring, my dear, Is no longer spring. Does the blackbird sing What he sang last year? Are the skies the old
I am a grave poetic hen That lays poetic eggs And to enhance my temperament A little quiet begs. We make the yolk philosophy,
I had over prepared the event, that much was ominous. With middle—ageing care I had laid out just the right book… I had almost turned down the pages…
His brow spreads large and placid,… Is deep and bright, with steady lo… Soft lines of tranquil thought his… His face at once benign and proud… If envy scout, if ignorance deny,
