(1916)
#AmericanWriters
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
Among of green stiff old
contend in a sea which the land pa… shielding them from the too—heavy… of an ungoverned ocean which when… tortures the biggest hulls, the be… to pit against its beatings, and s…
All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among
First he said: It is the woman in us That makes us write– Let us acknowledge it– Men would be silent.
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
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…
Take it out in vile whisky, take i… in lifting your skirts to show you… crotches; it is this that is inten… You are it. Your pleas will alway… You too will always go up with the…
Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…