#AmericanWriters
In heaven, Some little blades of grass Stood before God. “What did you do?” Then all save one of the little bl…
The trees in the garden rained flo… Children ran there joyously. They gathered the flowers Each to himself. Now there were some
I was in the darkness; I could not see my words Nor the wishes of my heart. Then suddenly there was a great li… “Let me into the darkness again.”
Two or three angels Came near to the earth. They saw a fat church. Little black streams of people Came and went in continually.
I looked here; I looked there; Nowhere could I see my love. And—this time— She was in my heart.
Black riders came from the sea. There was clang and clang of spear… And clash and clash of hoof and he… Wild shouts and the wave of hair In the rush upon the wind:
“Tell brave deeds of war.” Then they recounted tales,— “There were stern stands And bitter runs for glory.” Ah, I think there were braver dee…
On the horizon the peaks assembled… And as I looked, The march of the mountains began. As they marched, they sang, “Aye! We come! We come!”
God lay dead in heaven; Angels sang the hymn of the end; Purple winds went moaning, Their wings drip-dripping With blood
“Have you ever made a just man?” “Oh, I have made three,” answered… “But two of them are dead, And the third— Listen! Listen!
A youth in apparel that glittered Went to walk in a grim forest. There he met an assassin Attired all in garb of old days; He, scowling through the thickets,
Your cross? The real cross Is made of pounds, Dollars or francs. Here I bear my palms for the sill…
The wayfarer, Perceiving the pathway to truth, Was struck with astonishment. It was thickly grown with weeds. “Ha,” he said,
When a people reach the top of a h… Then does God lean toward them, Shortens tongues and lengthens arm… A vision of their dead comes to th… The moon shall not be too old
You tell me this is God? I tell you this is a printed list, A burning candle, and an ass.