#AmericanWriters
O woe, woe, People are born and die, We also shall be dead pretty soon Therefore let us act as if we were dead already.
LOQUITUR: En Betrans de Born. Dante Alighieri put this man in h… Eccovi! Judge ye! Have I dug him up again?
Italian Campagna 1309, the open r… Bah! I have sung women in three c… But it is all the same; And I will sing of the sun. Lips, words, and you snare them,
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…
When the wind storms by with a sho… Rejoice in the tramp and the roar… Then, then, it comes home to the h… Is the passion that burns the bloo… Till you pity the dead down there…
To So-Kin of Rakuyo, ancient fri… Gen. Now I remember that you built me… By the south side of the bridge at… With yellow gold and white jewels,…
Empty are the ways, Empty are the ways of this land And the flowers
Aye! I am a poet and upon my tomb Shall maidens scatter rose leaves And men myrtles, ere the night Slays day with her dark sword. ‘Lo! this thing is not mine
I even I, am he who knoweth the r… Through the sky, and the wind ther… I have beheld the Lady of Life, I, even I, who fly with the swall… Green and gray is her raiment,
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…
How many will come after me singing as well as I sing, none be… Telling the heart of their truth as I have taught them to tell it; Fruit of my seed,
Because a lady asks me, I would t… Of an affect that comes often and… And is so overweening; Love by na… E’en its deniers can now hear the… I for the nonce to them that know…
Phyllidula is scrawny but amorous, Thus have the gods awarded her, That in pleasure she receives more… If she does not count this blessed Let her change her religion.
The clouds have gathered, and gath… and the rain falls and falls, The eight ply of the heavens are all folded into one darkness, And the wide, flat road stretches…
The sky-like limpid eyes, The circular infant’s face, The stiffness from spats to collar Never relaxing into grace; The heavy memories of Horeb, Sina…