#AmericanWriters
If a man can say of his life or any moment of his life, There is nothing more to be desired! his st… becomes like that told in the famo… double sonnet—but without the
Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…
When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,
You know there is not much that I desire, a few chrysanthemum… half lying on the grass, yellow and brown and white, the talk of a few people, the trees,
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of
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
In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square
Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides
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 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 May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…