#AmericanWriters
The trees in the garden rained flo… Children ran there joyously. They gathered the flowers Each to himself. Now there were some
There were many who went in huddle… They knew not whither; But, at any rate, success or calam… Would attend all in equality. There was one who sought a new roa…
A man toiled on a burning road, Never resting. Once he saw a fat, stupid ass Grinning at him from a green place… The man cried out in rage,
There was crimson clash of war. Lands turned black and bare; Women wept; Babes ran, wondering. There came one who understood not…
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!”
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
Ay, workman, make me a dream, A dream for my love. Cunningly weave sunlight, Breezes, and flowers. Let it be of the cloth of meadows.
Behold, the grave of a wicked man, And near it, a stern spirit. There came a drooping maid with vi… But the spirit grasped her arm. “No flowers for him,” he said.
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.”
Walking in the sky, A man in strange black garb Encountered a radiant form. Then his steps were eager; Bowed he devoutly.
In the night Grey heavy clouds muffled the vall… And the peaks looked toward God a… “O Master that movest the wind wi… Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
You tell me this is God? I tell you this is a printed list, A burning candle, and an ass.
Fast rode the knight With spurs, hot and reeking, Ever waving an eager sword, “To save my lady!” Fast rode the knight,
Do not weep, maiden, for war is ki… Because your lover threw wild hand… And the affrighted steed ran on al… Do not weep. War is kind.
To the maiden The sea was blue meadow, Alive with little froth-people Singing. To the sailor, wrecked,