#AmericanWriters
A god in wrath Was beating a man; He cuffed him loudly With thunderous blows That rang and rolled over the eart…
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.
The sage lectured brilliantly. Before him, two images: “Now this one is a devil, And this one is me.” He turned away.
I walked in a desert. And I cried, “Ah, God, take me from this place… A voice said, “It is no desert.” I cried, “Well, But—
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.
There was a great cathedral. To solemn songs, A white procession Moved toward the altar. The chief man there
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…
A man said to the universe: “Sir I exist!” “However,” replied the universe, “The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.”
Love walked alone. The rocks cut her tender feet, And the brambles tore her fair lim… There came a companion to her, But, alas, he was no help,
Your cross? The real cross Is made of pounds, Dollars or francs. Here I bear my palms for the sill…
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:
In a lonely place, I encountered a sage Who sat, all still, Regarding a newspaper. He accosted me:
Forth went the candid man And spoke freely to the wind— When he looked about him he was in… Forth went the candid man And spoke freely to the stars—
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,
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,