#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
Oh, black Persian cat! Was not your life already cursed with offspring? We took you for rest to that old Yankee farm, —so lonely
This horrible but superb painting the parable of the blind without a red in the composition shows a group of beggars leading
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of
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
Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
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 thefield by force; the grass
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
The grass is very green, my friend… and tousled, like the head of —— your grandson, yes? And the mounta… the mountain we climbed twenty years since for the last
There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind
If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right