#AmericanWriters
The beast to the beast is calling, And the soul bends down to wait; Like the stealthy lord of the jung… The white man calls his mate. The beast to the beast is calling,
“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,
Oh flower-sweet face and bended fl… Oh violet whose purple cannot pale… Or forest fragrance ever faint or… Or breath and beauty pass among th… Yea, very truly has the poet said,
You took my empty dreams And filled them every one With tenderness and nobleness, April and the sun. The old empty dreams
“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 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…
We walked together in the dusk To watch the tower grow dimly whit… And saw it lift against the sky Its flower of amber light. You talked of half a hundred thing…
Your beauty lives in mystic melodi… And all the light about you breath… Your voice awakes the dreaming air… Within our music-haunted memories. The sirens’ strain that sank withi…
I think the moon is very kind To take such trouble just for me. He came along with me from home To keep me company. He went as fast as I could run;
WE will never walk again As we used to walk at night, Watching our shadows lengthen Under the gold street-light When the snow was new and white.
The moon is a charring ember Dying into the dark; Off in the crouching mountains Coyotes bark. The stars are heavy in heaven,
(To the maiden with the hidden fac… The other maidens raised their eye… Who stumbled in before them when t… Had left him victor, with a victor… I think his eyes with quick hot te…
My heart is but a little house With room for only three or four, And it was filled before you knock… Upon the door. I longed to bid you come within,
When I am dead and over me bright… Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Though you shall lean above me bro… I shall not care. I shall have peace, as leafy trees…
The princess has her lovers, A score of knights has she, And each can sing a madrigal, And praise her gracefully. But Love that is so bitter