#AmericanWriters
In my heart the old love Struggled with the new, It was ghostly waking All night through. Dear things, kind things
How many million Aprils came Before I ever knew How white a cherry bough could be, A bed of squills, how blue. And many a dancing April
The northern woods are delicately… The lake is folded softly by the s… But I am restless for the subway’… The thunder and the hurrying of fe… I try to sleep, but still my eyeli…
I would live in your love as the s… Borne up by each wave as it passes… I would empty my soul of the dream… I would beat with your heart as it…
You took my empty dreams And filled them every one With tenderness and nobleness, April and the sun. The old empty dreams
There never was a mood of mine, Gay or heart-broken, luminous or d… But you could ease me of its fever And give it back to me more beutif… In many another soul I broke the…
Oh I have sown my love so wide That he will find it everywhere; It will awake him in the night, It will enfold him in the air. I set my shadow in his sight
I am not sorry for my soul That it must go unsatisfied, For it can live a thousand times, Eternity is deep and wide. I am not sorry for my soul,
Blue dust of evening over my city, Over the ocean of roofs and the ta… Where the window-lights, myriads a… Bloom from the walls like climbing…
Love in my heart was a fresh tide… Where the starlike sea gulls soar; The sun was keen and the foam was… High on the rocky shore. But now in the dusk the tide is tu…
So soon my body will have gone Beyond the sound and sight of men, And tho’ it wakes and suffers now, Its sleep will be unbroken then; But oh, my frail immortal soul
The sparrows wake beneath the conv… I think I have not slept the whol… But I am old; the aged scarcely k… The times they wake and sleep, for… They breathe the calm of death bef…
You bound strong sandals on my fee… You gave me bread and wine, And sent me under sun and stars, For all the world was mine. Oh, take the sandals off my feet,
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
SUN-SWEPT beaches with a light… From the immense blue circle of th… And the soft thunder where long wa… These were the same for Sappho as… Two thousand years’much has gone…