#Activities #AmericanWriters #MoneyAndEconomics #SocialCommentaries
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…
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…
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.
The murderer’s little daughter who is barely ten years old jerks her shoulders right and left so as to catch a glimpse of me
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
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,
Even in the time when as yet I had no certain knowledge of her She sprang from the nest, a young… Whose first flight circled the for… I know now how then she showed me
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices
Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion 'tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing