#AmericanWriters
Here in the velvet stillness The wide sown fields fall to the f… Sleeping in starlight. . . . A year ago we walked in the jangli… Together . . . . forgetful.
I love too much; I am a river Surging with spring that seeks the… I am too generous a giver, Love will not stoop to drink of me… His feet will turn to desert place…
I wear a crown invisible and clear… And go my lifted royal way apart Since you have crowned me softly i… With love that is half ardent, hal… And as a queen disguised might pas…
MY forefathers gave me My spirit’s shaken flame, The shape of hands, the beat of he… The letters of my name. But it was my lovers,
OUT of the noise of tired people… Harried with thoughts of war and l… His beauty met me like a fresh win… Clean boyish beauty and high-held… Eyes that told secrets, lips that…
There! See the line of lights, A chain of stars down either side… Why can’t you lift the chain and g… A necklace for my throat? I’d tw… And you could play with it. You…
What do I care, in the dreams and… That my songs do not show me at al… For they are a fragrance, and I a… I am an answer, they are only a ca… But what do I care, for love will…
Was ever any face like this before… So light a veiling for the soul wi… So pure and yet so pitiful for sin… They say the soul will pass the H… And yearning upward, learn creatio…
HOW many times we must have met Here on the street as strangers do… Children of chance we were, who pa… The door of heaven and never knew.
I built a little House of Dreams, And fenced it all about, But still I heard the Wind of Tr… That roared without. I laid a fire of Memories
O LOVELY chance, what can I do To give my gratefulness to you? You rise between myself and me With a wise persistency; I would have broken body and soul,
I made a hundred little songs That told the joy and pain of love… And sang them blithely, tho’ I kn… No whit thereof. I was a weaver deaf and blind;
I have no riches but my thoughts, Yet these are wealth enough for me… My thoughts of you are golden coin… Stamped in the mint of memory; And I must spend them all in song…
I came from the sunny valleys And sought for the open sea, For I thought in its gray expanse… My peace would come to me. I came at last to the ocean
When the long day goes by And I do not see your face, The old wild, restless sorrow Steals from its hiding place. My day is barren and broken,