#AmericanWriters
It is, and is not, I am sane enou… Since you have come this place has… This fabrication built of autumn r… Then there’s a goldish colour, dif… And one gropes in these things as…
I ha’ seen them 'mid the clouds on… Lo! they pause not for love nor fo… Yet their eyes are as the eyes of… When the white hart breaks his cov… And the white wind breaks the morn…
As a bathtub lined with white porc… When the hot water gives out or go… So is the slow cooling of our chiv… O my much praised but—not—altogeth…
Vex not thou the banker’s mind (His what?) with a show of sense, Vex it not, Willie, his mind, Or pierce its pretence On the supposition that it ever
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
`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…
LOQUITUR: En Betrans de Born. Dante Alighieri put this man in h… Eccovi! Judge ye! Have I dug him up again?
The petals fall in the fountain, the orange-coloured rose-leaves, Their ochre clings to the stone.
The gods are dead? Perhaps they a… Living at least in Lempriere unde… The wise, the fair, the awful, the… Are one and all. I like to think,… In some still land of lilacs and t…
‘Tis not a game that plays at ma… Provençe knew; ’Tis not a game of barter, lands a… Provençe knew. We who are wise beyond your dream…
For a moment she rested against me Like a swallow half blown to the w… And they talk of Swinburne’s wome… And the shepherdess meeting with… And the harlots of Baudelaire.
The rustling of the silk is discon… Dust drifts over the court-yard, There is no sound of foot-fall, an… Scurry into heaps and lie still, And she the rejoicer of the heart…
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…
And then went down to the ship, Set keel to breakers, forth on the… We set up mast and sail on that sw… Bore sheep aboard her, and our bod… Heavy with weeping, and winds from…
Beautiful, tragical faces’ Ye that were whole, and are so sun… And, O ye vile, ye that might hav… That are so sodden and drunken, Who hath forgotten you?