#AmericanWriters
The wayfarer, Perceiving the pathway to truth, Was struck with astonishment. It was thickly grown with weeds. “Ha,” he said,
Many workmen Built a huge ball of masonry Upon a mountain-top. Then they went to the valley below… And turned to behold their work.
There was set before me a mighty h… And long days I climbed Through regions of snow. When I had before me the summit-v… It seemed that my labour
Why do you strive for greatness, f… Go pluck a bough and wear it. It is as sufficing. My Lord, there are certain barbar… Who tilt their noses
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!”
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,
Walking in the sky, A man in strange black garb Encountered a radiant form. Then his steps were eager; Bowed he devoutly.
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.
And you love me I love you. You are, then, cold coward. Aye; but, beloved, When I strive to come to you,
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.”
A spirit sped Through spaces of night; And as he sped, he called, “God! God!” He went through valleys
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…
ONCE I saw mountains angry, And ranged in battle-front. Against them stood a little man; Ay, he was no bigger than my finge… I laughed, and spoke to one near m…
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…
You say you are holy, And that Because I have not seen you sin. Aye, but there are those Who see you sin, my friend.