#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
Ecstatic bird songs pound the hollow vastness of the sky with metallic clinkings— beating color up into it at a far edge,—beating it, beating…
You know there is not much that I desire, a few chrysanthemum… half lying on the grass, yellow and brown and white, the talk of a few people, the trees,
The pure products of America go crazy— mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey
When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,
Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion 'tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity
I lie here thinking of you:—— the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves,
Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth ——nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking the field by force; the grass
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island
If a man can say of his life or any moment of his life, There is nothing more to be desired! his st… becomes like that told in the famo… double sonnet—but without the
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.