#AmericanWriters
After the leaves have fallen, we r… To a plain sense of things. It is… We had come to an end of the imagi… Inanimate in an inert savoir. It is difficult even to choose the…
Although you sit in a room that is… Except for the silver Of the straw-paper, And pick At your pale white gown;
My candle burned alone in an immen… Beams of the huge night converged… Until the wind blew. The beams of the huge night Converged upon its image,
Children picking up our bones Will never know that these were on… As quick as foxes on the hill; And that in autumn, when the grape… Made sharp air sharper by their sm…
Go on, high ship, since now, upon… The snake has left its skin upon t… Key West sank downward under mass… And silvers and greens spread over… Is at the mast-head and the past i…
I placed a jar in Tennessee, And round it was, upon a hill. It made the slovenly wilderness Surround that hill. The wilderness rose up to it,
One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with sno… And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged wit…
You dweller in the dark cabin, To whom the watermelon is always p… Whose garden is wind and moon, Of the two dreams, night and day, What lover, what dreamer, would ch…
She sang beyond the genius of the… The water never formed to mind or… Like a body wholly body, flutterin… Its empty sleeves; and yet its mim… Made constant cry, caused constant…
At night, by the fire, The colors of the bushes And of the fallen leaves, Repeating themselves, Turned in the room,
As the immense dew of Florida Brings forth The big-finned palm And green vine angering for life, As the immense dew of Florida
What is divinity if it can come Only in silent shadows and in drea… Shall she not find in comforts of… In pungent fruit and bright, green… In any balm or beauty of the earth…
There is a great river this side o… Before one comes to the first blac… And trees that lack the intelligen… In that river, far this side of S… The mere flowing of the water is a…
Barque of phosphor On the palmy beach, Move outward into heaven, Into the alabasters And night blues.
There’s a little square in Paris, Waiting until we pass. They sit idly there, They sip the glass. There’s a cab-horse at the corner,