#AmericanWriters
Among the rain and lights I saw the figure 5 in gold on a red
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,
By constantly tormenting them with reminders of the lice in their children’s hair, the School Physician first brought their hatred down on him.
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
It’s all in the sound. A song. Seldom a song. It should be a song—made of particulars, wasps,
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
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…
Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
When over the flowery, sharp pastu… edge, unseen, the salt ocean lifts its form—chicory and daisies tied, released, seem hardly flower… but color and the movement—or the…
I feel the caress of my own finger… on my own neck as I place my colla… and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.
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…