#AmericanWriters
These wet rocks where the tide has… Barnacled white and weeded brown And slimed beneath to a beautiful… These wet rocks where the tide wen… Will show again when the tide is h…
Oh, here the air is sweet and stil… And soft’s the grass to lie on; And far away’s the little hill They took for Christ to die on. And there’s a hill across the broo…
Love is not all: it is not meat no… Nor slumber nor a roof against the… Nor yet a floating spar to men tha… And rise and sink and rise and sin… Love can not fill the thickened lu…
(He speaks, but to himself, being… Think not I have not heard. Well-fanged the double word And well-directed flew. I felt it. Down my side
Aye, but she? Your other sister and my other sou… Grave Silence, lovelier Than the three loveliest maidens,… Clio, not you,
Mindful of you the sodden earth in… And all the flowers that in the sp… And dusty roads, and thistles, and… Rising of the round moon, all thro… The summer through, and each depar…
Women have loved before as I love… At least, in lively chronicles of… Of Irish waters by a Cornish prow Or Trojan waters by a Spartan mas… Much to their cost invaded—here an…
“Curse thee, Life, I will live wi… Thou hast mocked me, starved me, b… And all for a pledge that was not… I have kissed thy crust and eaten… That I might eat again, and met t…
Am I kin to Sorrow, That so oft Falls the knocker of my door—— Neither loud nor soft, But as long accustomed,
Love, though for this you riddle m… And drag me at your chariot till… Oh, heavy prince! Oh, panderer of… Yet hear me tell how in their thro… Who shout you mighty: thick about…
“Heaven bless the babe!” they said… “What queer books she must have re… (Love, by whom I was beguiled, Grant I may not bear a child.) “Little does she guess to-day
I think I will learn some beautif… Purposes, work hard at that. I think I will learn the Latin na… America but wherever they sing. (Shun meditation, though; invite t…
If it were only still!— With far away the shrill Crying of a cock; Or the shaken bell From a cow’s throat
When reeds are dead and a straw to… And feathered pampas-grass rides i… Like aged warriors westward, tragi… Of half their tribe, and over the… Stripped of its secret, open, star…
Cut if you will, with Sleep’s dul… Each day to half its length, my fr… The years that Time take off my l… He’ll take from off the other end!