#AmericanWriters
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;
O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patr… Give me in due time, I beseech yo… With the little bright boxes piled up neatly upon the shelves And the loose fragrant cavendish
ROSE WHITE, YELLOW, SILV… The swirl of light follows me thro… The smoke of incense Mounts from the four horns of my b… The water-jet of gold light bears…
Lord God of heaven that with merc… Th’alternate prayer wheel of the n… Eternal hath to thee, and in whose… Our days as rain drops in the sea… As bright white drops upon a leade…
Io! Io! Tamuz! The Dryad staiids in my court-yar… With plaintive, querulous crying. (Tamuz. Io! Tamuz!) Oh, no, she is not crying: ‘Tamuz…
“Pan is dead. Great Pan is dead. Ah! bow your heads, ye maidens all… And weave ye him his coronal.” “There is no summer in the leaves, And withered are the sedges;
WIND Scarce and thin, scarce and thin The government’s excuse, Never at all will they do Aught of the slightest use.
At Rochecoart, Where the hills part in three ways, And three valleys, full of winding… Fork out to south and north,
Ha! sir, I have seen you sniffing… about among my flowers. And what, pray, do you know about horticulture, you capriped? ‘Come, Auster, come Apeliota,
There’s a regret So grinding, so immitigably sad, Remorse thereby feels tolerant, ev… Do you not know it yet? For deeds undone
Sing we for love and idleness, Naught else is worth the having. Though I have been in many a land… There is naught else in living. And I would rather have my sweet,
The jewelled steps are already qui… It is so late that the dew soaks m… And I let down the crystal curtai… And watch the moon through the cle…
The light became her grace and dwe… Blind eyes and shadows that are fo… Lo, how the light doth melt us int… The broken sunlight for a healm sh… Who hath my heart in jurisdiction.
Leucis, who intended a Grand Pass… Ends with a willingness-to-oblige.
1 his papier-mâché, which you see… Saith ’twas the worthiest of edito… Its mind was made up in 'the seven… Nor hath it ever since changed tha… It works to represent that school…