(1923)
#AmericanWriters
Among of green stiff old
The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
"Sweet land" at last! out of sea— the Venusremembering wavelets rippling with laughter—
When over the flowery, sharp pastu… edge, unseen, the salt ocean lifts its form—chicory and daisies tied, released, seem hardly flower… but color and the movement—or the…
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...
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
I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.
It is still warm enough to slip from the weeds into the lake’s edge, your clothes blushing in the grass and three small boys grinning behind the derelict hearth’s side. But summer...
The birches are mad with green poi… the wood’s edge is burning with th… burning, seething—No, no, no. The birches are opening their leav… by one. Their delicate leaves unfo…