#AmericanWriters
“Four winds blowing thro’ the sky, You have seen poor maidens die, Tell me then what I shall do That my lover may be true.” Said the wind from out the south,
In my heart the old love Struggled with the new; It was ghostly waking All night thru. Dear things, kind things,
I was a queen, and I have lost my… A wife, and I have broken all my… A lover, and I ruined him I loved… There is no other havoc left to do… A little month ago I was a queen,
The lightning spun your garment fo… Of silver filaments with fire shot… A broidery of lamps that lit for y… The steadfast splendor of enduring… The moon drifts dimly in the heave…
Out of the delicate dream of the d… Veiled in the violet folds of the… Softly the dream grows awakening—s… Splashes of crimson, the gay bouga… High in the infinite blue of its h…
In my heart the old love Struggled with the new, It was ghostly waking All night through. Dear things, kind things
When April bends above me And finds me fast asleep Dust need not keep the secret A live heart died to keep. When April tells the thrushes,
(In Memory of J. W. T. Jr.) HE was a soldier in that fight Where there is neither flag nor dr… And without sound of musketry The stealthy foemen come.
IN the last year I have learned How few men are worth my trust; I have seen the friend I loved Struck by death into the dust, And fears I never knew before
Beside an ebbing northern sea While stars awaken one by one, We walk together, I and he. He woos me with an easy grace That proves him only half sincere;
O mother, I am sick of love, I cannot laugh nor lift my head, My bitter dreams have broken me, I would my love were dead. “Drink of the draught I brew for…
Oh beauty that is filled so full o… Where every passing anguish left i… I pray you grant to me this depth… That I may see before it disappea… Blown through the gateway of our h…
When I have ceased to break my wi… Against the faultiness of things, And learned that compromises wait Behind each hardly opened gate, When I have looked Life in the ey…
I said, “My youth is gone Like a fire beaten out by the rain… That will never sway and sing Or play with the wind again.” I said, “It is no great sorrow
When Love was born I think he lay Right warm on Venus’ breast, And whiles he smiled and whiles wo… And whiles would take his rest. But always, folded out of sight,