#Americans
Friend, your white beard sweeps th… Why do you stand, expectant? Do you hope to see it In one of your withered days? With your old eyes
“It was wrong to do this,” said th… “You should live like a flower, Holding malice like a puppy, Waging war like a lambkin.” “Not so,” quoth the man
I saw a man pursuing the horizon; Round and round they sped. I was disturbed at this; I accosted the man. “It is futile,” I said,
The successful man has thrust hims… Through the water of the years, Reeking wet with mistakes— Bloody mistakes; Slimed with victories over the les…
Yes, I have a thousand tongues, And nine and ninety-nine lie. Though I strive to use the one, It will make no melody at my will, But is dead in my mouth.
Once there was a man - Oh, so wise! In all drink He detected the bitter, And in all touch
There came whisperings in the wind… “Good-bye! Good-bye!” Little voices called in the darkne… “Good-bye! Good-bye!” Then I stretched forth my arms.
A man said to the universe: “Sir I exist!” “However,” replied the universe, “The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.”
I explain the silvered passing of… The sweep of each sad lost wave, The dwindling boom of the steel th… The little cry of a man to a man, A shadow falling across the greyer…
There was one I met upon the road Who looked at me with kind eyes. He said, “Show me of your wares.” And this I did, Holding forth one.
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!”
“And the sins of the fathers shall… visited upon the heads of the chil… even unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me.” Well, then I hate thee, unrighteo…
EACH small gleam was a voice —A lantern voice— In little songs of carmine, violet… A chorus of colors came over the w… The wondrous leaf-shadow no longer…
TELL me why, behind thee, I see always the shadow of another… Is it real Or is this the thrice-damned memor… Plague on him if he be dead
Once, I knew a fine song, —It is true, believe me— It was all of birds, And I held them in a basket; When I opened the wicket,