(1916)
#AmericanWriters
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...
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
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…
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and
The coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…
It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.
Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth ——nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking the field by force; the grass
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
Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!
If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…
When I am alone I am happy. The air is cool. The sky is flecked and splashed and wound with color. The crimson phalloi of the sassafras leaves
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth—nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking thefield by force; the grass
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing