#AmericanWriters
Yes, I have a thousand tongues, And nine and ninety-nine lie. Though I strive to use the one, It will make no melody at my will, But is dead in my mouth.
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…
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!”
Supposing that I should have the… To let a red sword of virtue Plunge into my heart, Letting to the weeds of the ground My sinful blood,
A man said to the universe: “Sir I exist!” “However,” replied the universe, “The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.”
Blustering God, Stamping across the sky With loud swagger, I fear You not. No, though from Your highest heav…
TELL me why, behind thee, I see always the shadow of another… Is it real Or is this the thrice-damned memor… Plague on him if he be dead
You tell me this is God? I tell you this is a printed list, A burning candle, and an ass.
Mystic shadow, bending near me, Who art thou? Whence come ye? And—tell me—is it fair Or is the truth bitter as eaten fi…
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
Once there was a man - Oh, so wise! In all drink He detected the bitter, And in all touch
I explain the silvered passing of… The sweep of each sad lost wave, The dwindling boom of the steel th… The little cry of a man to a man, A shadow falling across the greyer…
Walking in the sky, A man in strange black garb Encountered a radiant form. Then his steps were eager; Bowed he devoutly.
And you love me I love you. You are, then, cold coward. Aye; but, beloved, When I strive to come to you,
To the maiden The sea was blue meadow, Alive with little froth-people Singing. To the sailor, wrecked,