#AmericanWriters
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 spirit sped Through spaces of night; And as he sped, he called, “God! God!” He went through valleys
You tell me this is God? I tell you this is a printed list, A burning candle, and an ass.
LITTLE birds of the night Aye, they have much to tell Perching there in rows Blinking at me with their serious… Recounting of flowers they have se…
“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 slant of sun on dull brown walls… A forgotten sky of bashful blue. Toward God a mighty hymn, A song of collisions and cries, Rumbling wheels, hoof-beats, bells…
When the prophet, a complacent fat… Arrived at the mountain-top, He cried: “Woe to my knowledge! I intended to see good white lands And bad black lands,
There was a great cathedral. To solemn songs, A white procession Moved toward the altar. The chief man there
Your cross? The real cross Is made of pounds, Dollars or francs. Here I bear my palms for the sill…
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,
In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it.
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:
Places among the stars, Soft gardens near the sun, Keep your distant beauty; Shed no beams upon my weak heart. Since she is here
There was a man with tongue of woo… Who essayed to sing, And in truth it was lamentable. But there was one who heard The clip-clapper of this tongue of…
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: