#AmericanWriters
A god in wrath Was beating a man; He cuffed him loudly With thunderous blows That rang and rolled over the eart…
You tell me this is God? I tell you this is a printed list, A burning candle, and an ass.
A man said to the universe: “Sir I exist!” “However,” replied the universe, “The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.”
Tradition, thou art for suckling c… Thou art the enlivening milk for b… But no meat for men is in thee. Then— But, alas, we all are babes.
I HEARD thee laugh, And in this merriment I defined the measure of my pain; I knew that I was alone, Alone with love,
Behold, from the land of the farth… I returned. And I was in a reptile-swarming p… Peopled, otherwise, with grimaces, Shrouded above in black impenetrab…
Your cross? The real cross Is made of pounds, Dollars or francs. Here I bear my palms for the sill…
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
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.
Each small gleam was a voice, A lantern voice— In little songs of carmine, violet… A chorus of colours came over the… The wondrous leaf-shadow no longer…
Aman said to the universe, ‘Sir, I exist!’ ‘However,’ replied the universe, ‘The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.’
A youth in apparel that glittered Went to walk in a grim forest. There he met an assassin Attired all in garb of old days; He, scowling through the thickets,
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
Blustering God, Stamping across the sky With loud swagger, I fear You not. No, though from Your highest heav…
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,