#AmericanWriters
The winds have grown articulate in… And voiced again the wail of ancie… That smote upon the winds of long… The cries of Trojan women as they… The quivering moan of pale Androm…
Pierrot stands in the garden Beneath a waning moon, And on his lute he fashions A little silver tune. Pierrot plays in the garden,
I am alone, in spite of love, In spite of all I take and give’… In spite of all your tenderness, Sometimes I am not glad to live. I am alone, as though I stood
I went out on an April morning All alone, for my heart was high, I was a child of the shining meado… I was a sister of the sky. There in the windy flood of mornin…
WHEN they see my songs They will sigh and say, ‘Poor soul, wistful soul, Lonely night and day.’ They will never know
My answered prayer came up to me, And in the silence thus spake he: “O you who prayed for me to come, Your greeting is but cold and dumb… My heart made answer: “You are fa…
(For a picture by Duncan Walker) Lady, light in the east hangs low, Draw your veils of dream apart, Under the casement stands Pierrot Making a song to ease his heart.
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 fountain shivers lightly in th… The laurels drip, the fading roses… The marble satyr plays a mournful… That leaves the rainy fragrance mu… Oh dripping laurel, Phoebus sacre…
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
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 went back to the clanging city, I went back where my old loves sta… But my heart was full of my new lo… My eyes were laughing and unafraid… I met one who had loved me madly
The wind is tossing the lilacs, The new leaves laugh in the sun, And the petals fall on the orchard… But for me the spring is done. Beneath the apple blossoms
Dreamily over the roofs The cold spring rain is falling, Out in the lonely tree A bird is calling, calling. Slowly over the earth
If he could know my songs are all… At silver dawn or in the evening g… Would he not smile and think it bu… If he could know? Or would his heart rejoice and ove…