#AmericanWriters
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
SO long as my spirit still Is glad of breath And lifts its plumes of pride In the dark face of death; While I am curious still
When I am dying, let me know That I loved the blowing snow Although it stung like whips; That I loved all lovely things And I tried to take their stings
Every night I lie awake And every day I lie abed And hear the doctors, Pain and De… Confering at my head. They speak in scientific tones,
You took my empty dreams And filled them every one With tenderness and nobleness, April and the sun. The old empty dreams
My heart has grown rich with the p… I have less need now than when I… To share myself with every comer Or shape my thoughts into words wi… It is one to me that they come or…
Oh, there are eyes that he can see… And hands to make his hands rejoic… But to my lover I must be Only a voice. Oh, there are breasts to bear his…
Before a lonely shrine Of foam-born Aphrodite, Ungarlanded of vine, Undyed by dripping wine, I brought green bay to twine,
We are apart; the city grows quiet… She hushes herself, for midnight m… The tangle of traffic is ended, th… Five streets divide us, and on the… Oh are you asleep, or lying awake,…
I am free of love as a bird flying… Swift and intent, asking no joy fr… Glad to forget all of the passion… Ere it was love-free. I am free of love, and I listen t…
We held the book together timidly, Whose antique music in an alien to… Once rose among the dew-drenched v… Beneath a high Castilian balcony. I felt the lute strings’ ancient e…
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
OH to be free of myself, With nothing left to remember, To have my heart as bare As a tree in December; Resting, as a tree rests
When I went to look at what had l… A jewel laid long ago in a secret… I trembled, for I thought to see… But only a pinch of dust blew up i… I almost gave my life long ago for…
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