#AmericanWriters
“Think as I think,” said a man, “Or you are abominably wicked; You are a toad.” And after I had thought of it, I said, “I will, then, be a toad.…
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
I stood musing in a black world, Not knowing where to direct my fee… And I saw the quick stream of men Pouring ceaselessly, Filled with eager faces,
Your cross? The real cross Is made of pounds, Dollars or francs. Here I bear my palms for the sill…
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
A man said to the universe: “Sir I exist!” “However,” replied the universe, “The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.”
UNWIND my riddle. Cruel as hawks the hours fly; Wounded men seldom come home to di… The hard waves see an arm flung hi… Scorn hits strong because of a lie…
Once there came a man Who said, “Range me all men of the world in… And instantly There was terrific clamour among t…
A man saw a ball of gold in the sk… He climbed for it, And eventually he achieved it— It was clay. Now this is the strange part:
A newspaper is a collection of hal… Which, bawled by boys from mile to… Spreads its curious opinion To a million merciful and sneering… While families cuddle the joys of…
God fashioned the ship of the worl… With the infinite skill of an All… Made He the hull and the sails, Held He the rudder Ready for adjustment.
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,
Should the wide world roll away Leaving black terror Limitless night, Nor God, nor man, nor place to st… Would be to me essential
There was a man and a woman Who sinned. Then did the man heap the punishme… All upon the head of her, And went away gaily.
The chatter of a death-demon from… Blood– blood and torn grass – Had marked the rise of his agony - This lone hunter. The grey-green woods impassive