#AmericanWriters
The petals fall in the fountain, the orange-coloured rose-leaves, Their ochre clings to the stone.
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…
DIFFERENCE OF OPINION W… LYGDAMUS Tell me the truths which you hear… Lygdamus, And may the bought yoke of a mistr…
LOQUITUR: En Betrans de Born. Dante Alighieri put this man in h… Eccovi! Judge ye! Have I dug him up again?
The gilded phaloi of the crocuses are thrusting at the spring air. Here is there naught of dead gods But a procession of festival, A procession, Giulio Romano,
The narrow streets cut into the wi… Dark oxen, white horses, drag on the seven coaches with out… The coaches are perfumed wood, The jewelled chair is held up at t…
The baby new to earth and sky Has never until now Unto himself the question put Or asked us if the cow Is higher in the mental scale
What if I know thy speeches word… And if thou knew’st I knew them w… What if I know thy speeches word… And all the time thou sayest them… ‘Lo, one there was who bent her fa…
Go, dumb-born book, Tell her that sang me once that so… Hadst thou but song As thou hast subjects known, Then were there cause in thee that…
Come, let us pity those who are be… come, my friend, and remember that the rich have butlers and no… And we have friends and no butlers… Come, let us pity the married and…
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fa… On desolate sea and lonely sand, Out of the silence and the shade What is the voice of strange comma… Calling you still, as friend calls…
I make a pact with you, Walt Whit… I have detested you long enough. I come to you as a grown child Who has had a pig—headed father; I am old enough now to make friend…
Take, dear, my little sheaf of son… For, old or new, All that is good in them belongs Only to you; And, singing as when all was young…
WIND Scarce and thin, scarce and thin The government’s excuse, Never at all will they do Aught of the slightest use.
Like a skein of loose silk blown a… She walks by the railing of a path… And she is dying piece—meal of a sort of emotional anæmia. And round about there is a rabble