(1916)
#AmericanWriters
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream
Why pretend to remember the weather two years back? Why not? Listen close then repeat after others what they have just said and win a reputation for vivacity. Oh feed upon petals o...
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…
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
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
They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go
If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists
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…
It is cold. The white moon is up among her scattered stars— like the bare thighs of the Police Sergeant’s wife—among her five children . . .
"Sweet land" at last! out of sea— the Venusremembering wavelets rippling with laughter—