#AmericanWriters
The trees in the garden rained flo… Children ran there joyously. They gathered the flowers Each to himself. Now there were some
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 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…
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,
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…
If I should cast off this tattere… And go free into the mighty sky; If I should find nothing there But a vast blue, Echoless, ignorant—
There was a land where lived no vi… A traveller at once demanded: ‘Wh… The people told him: ‘Once the violets of this place sp… ’Until some woman freely gives her…
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:
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.
The successful man has thrust hims… Through the water of the years, Reeking wet with mistakes— Bloody mistakes; Slimed with victories over the les…
There was a land where lived no vi… A traveller at once demanded: “Wh… The people told him: “Once the violets of this place sp… ‘Until some woman freely gives her…
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.
In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it.
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.
There was a man who lived a life o… Even upon the fabric of time, Where purple becomes orange And orange purple, This life glowed,