#AmericanWriters
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,
I understood the rest too well, And all their thoughts have come t… Clear as grey sea-weed in the swel… Of a sunny shallow sea. But you I never understood,
SUPPER comes at five o’clock, At six, the evening star, My lover comes at eight o’clock’ But eight o’clock is far. How could I bear my pain all day
We held the book together timidly, Whose antique music in an alien to… Once rose among the dew-drenched v… Beneath a high Castilian balcony. I felt the lute strings’ ancient e…
The faery forest glimmered Beneath an ivory moon, The silver grasses shimmered Against a faery tune. Beneath the silken silence
Every night I lie awake And every day I lie abed And hear the doctors, Pain and De… Confering at my head. They speak in scientific tones,
Impassioned singer of the happy ti… When all the world was waking into… And dew still glistened on the tan… And lingered on the branches of th… Oh peerless singer of the golden r…
The moon is like a scimitar, A little silver scimitar, A-drifting down the sky. And near beside it is a star, A timid twinkling golden star,
I sang my songs for the rest, For you I am still; The tree of my song is bare On its shining hill. For you came like a lordly wind,
I am wild, I will sing to the tre… I will sing to the stars in the sk… I love, I am loved, he is mine, Now at last I can die! I am sandaled with wind and with f…
They sent you in to say farewell t… No, do not shake your head; I see… That shine with tears. Sappho, yo… Just now when you came hither, and… When you have left me, all the shi…
Oh in the deep blue night The fountain sang alone; It sang to the drowsy heart Of a satyr carved in stone. The fountain sang and sang
They came to tell your faults to m… They named them over one by one; I laughed aloud when they were don… I knew them all so well before, - Oh, they were blind, too blind to…
“She can’t be unhappy,” you said, “The smiles are like stars in her… And her laughter is thistledown Around her low replies.” “Is she unhappy?” you said—
They never saw my lover’s face, They only know our love was brief, Wearing awhile a windy grace And passing like an autumn leaf. They wonder why I do not weep,