#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely
Sooner or later we must come to the end of striving to re-establish the image the image of
My townspeople, beyond in the grea… are many with whom it were far mor… profitable for me to live than her… These whirr about me calling, call… and for my own part I answer them,…
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on
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,
This plot of ground facing the waters of this inlet is dedicated to the living presenc… Emily Dickinson Wellcome who was born in England; married;
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.
You Communists and Republicans! all you Germans and Frenchmen! you corpses and quickeners! The stars are about to melt and fall on you in tears.
They tell me on the morrow I must… This winter eyrie for a southern f… And truth to tell I tremble with… At thought of such unheralded repr… E’er have I known December in a w…