(1923)
#AmericanWriters
NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,
If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves or at best against treacherous
Among of green stiff old
Why go further? One might conceivably rectify the rhythm, study all out and arrive at the perfection of a tiger lily or a china doorknob. One might lift all out of the ruck, be a w...
Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.
I’ve fond anticipation of a day O’erfilled with pure diversion pre… For I must read a lady poesy The while we glide by many a leafy… Hid deep in rushes, where at rando…
An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…
unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line
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,
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—