(1923)
#AmericanWriters
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.
Well, Lizzie Anderson! seventeen… the baby hard to find a father for… What will the good Father in Heav… to the local judge if he do not so… A little two-pointed smile and—pou…
A day on the boulevards chosen out… student poverty! One best day out… Berket in high spirits—"Ha, orang… And he made to snatch an orange fr… Now so clever was the deception, s…
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of
Oh, black Persian cat! Was not your life already cursed with offspring? We took you for rest to that old Yankee farm, —so lonely
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow
Leaves are graygreen, the glass broken, bright green.
ALL those treasures that lie in t… Mightier than the room of the star… All those treasures—I hold them i… Against the sides and the lid and… Crying that there is no sun come a…
These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich