#AmericanWriters
The phoenix are at play on their t… The phoenix are gone, the river H… Flowers and grass Cover over the dark path where lay the dynastic house of th…
You’d have men’s hearts up from th… And tell their secrets, Messire C… Rigkt enough? Then read between t… Solve me the riddle, for you know… Bertrans, En Bertrans, left a fin…
The girl in the tea shop Is not so beautiful as she was, The August has worn against her. She does not get up the stairs so… Yes, she also will turn middle—age…
Some may have blamed us that we ce… Of things we spoke of in our verse… Saying: a lovely voice is such as… Saying: that lady’s eyes were sad… Wherein the world’s whole joy is b…
Be in me as the eternal moods of the bleak wind, and’not As transient things are gaiety of flowers. Have me in the strong loneliness
They say the roads of Sanso are s… Sheer as the mountains. The walls rise in a man’s face, Clouds grow out of the hill at his horse’s bridle.
‘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…
Your mind and you are our Sargass… London has swept about you this sc… And bright ships left you this or… Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all… Strange spars of knowledge and dim…
With usura hath no man a house of… each block cut smooth and well fit… that design might cover their face… with usura hath no man a painted paradise on…
When I was only a youngster, Sing: toodle doodlede ootl Ole Kate would git her 'arf a pin… And wouldn’t’ giv’ a damn hoot. ‘Them stairs! them stairs, them go…
There’s a regret So grinding, so immitigably sad, Remorse thereby feels tolerant, ev… Do you not know it yet? For deeds undone
When I carefully consider the cur… I am compelled to conclude That man is the superior animal. When I consider the curious habit… I confess, my friend, I am puzzle…
This government official Whose wife is several years his se… Has such a caressing air When he shakes hands with young la… (Pompes Funèbres)
Will people accept them? (i.e. these songs). As a timorous wench from a centaur (or a centurion), Already they flee, howling in terr…
A poor clerk I, 'Arnaut the less’… And because I have small mind to… Day long, long day cooped on a sto… A-jumbling o’ figures for Maitre… I ha’ taken to rambling the South…