#AmericanWriters
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…
I came from the sunny valleys And sought for the open sea, For I thought in its gray expanse… My peace would come to me. I came at last to the ocean
BOWED as an elm under the weight… So earth is bowed, under her weigh… Molten sea, richness of leaves and… Bronze of sea-grasses. Clefts in the cliff shelter the pu…
DAY, you have bruised and beaten… As rain beats down the bright, pro… Beaten my body, bruised my soul, Left me nothing lovely or whole— Yet I have wrested a gift from yo…
Was ever any face like this before… So light a veiling for the soul wi… So pure and yet so pitiful for sin… They say the soul will pass the H… And yearning upward, learn creatio…
I WENT out at night alone; The young blood flowing beyond the… Seemed to have drenched my spirit’… I bore my sorrow heavily. But when I lifted up my head
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
I made a hundred little songs That told the joy and pain of love… And sang them blithely, tho’ I kn… No whit thereof. I was a weaver deaf and blind;
Vivid with love, eager for greater… Out of the night we come Into the corridor, brilliant and w… A metal door slides open, And the lift receives us.
Oh you are coming, coming, coming, How will hungry Time put by the h… But why does it anger my heart to… For one man out of the world of me… Oh I would live in myself only
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…
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,
It is enough for me by day To walk the same bright earth with… Enough that over us by night The same great roof of stars is di… I have no care to bind the wind
I cannot die, who drank delight From the cup of the crescent moon, And hungrily as men eat bread, Loved the scented nights of June. The rest may die—but is there not
Crisply the bright snow whispered, Crunching beneath our feet; Behind us as we walked along the p… Our shadows danced, Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.