#AmericanWriters
I cannot tell what I would tell t… What I would say, what thou shoul… Words of the soul that should comp… Words of the heart to draw thee ne… For when thou smilest, thou, who f…
‘T was Fiddledeedee who put to se… With a rollicking buccaneer Bumbl… An acorn-cup was their hollow boat A rakish craft was their acorn-boa… And their sail a butterfly’s wing;
Low clouds, the lightning veins an… Torn from the forest of the storm, Sweep westward like enormous leave… O’er field and farm. And in the west, on burning skies,
An Oldham-County Weather Philoso… ‘Who is Corncob Jones?’ you say. Beateningest man and talkingest: Talk and talk th’ enduring day, Never even stop to rest,
Ah me! I shall not waken soon From dreams of such divinity! A spirit singing 'neath the moon To me. Wild sea-spray driven of the storm
I do not love you now, O narrow heart, that had no height… You, whom mine fed; to whom yours… Food when mine hungered, and of wh… I do not love you now.
Above her, pearl and rose the heav… Around her, flowers scattered eart… Or down the path in insolence held… Like cavaliers who ride the elves’… Scarlet and blue, within a garden…
The hot sunflowers by the glaring… Lift shields of sultry brass; the… Pink-thorned, advance with bristli… Against the furious sunlight. Fie… Are sick with summer: now, with br…
Bird, with the voice of gold, Dropping wild bar on bar, To which the flowers unfold, Star upon gleaming star, Here in the forest old:
All day the clouds hung ashen with… And through the snow the muffled w… The day seemed drowned in grief to… Like some old hermit whose last be… At eve the wind woke, and the snow…
Dull, dimly gleaming, The dawn looks downward Where, flowing townward, The river, steaming With mist, is hidden:
A heritage of hopes and fears And dreams and memory, And vices of ten thousand years God gives to thee. A house of clay, the home of Fate…
There’s a boy who lives next door; And this boy is just as bad As a boy can be; and poor! He’s so poor it makes me sad When I see him. Out at knee;
Ah, shall I follow, on the hills, The Spring, as wild wings follow? Where wild-plum trees make wan the… Crabapple trees the hollow, Haunts of the bee and swallow?
Over the bay as our boat went sail… Under the skies of Augustine, Far to the East lay the ocean pal… Under the skies of Augustine. There, in the boat as we sat toget…