#AmericanWriters
To the maiden The sea was blue meadow, Alive with little froth-people Singing. To the sailor, wrecked,
There were many who went in huddle… They knew not whither; But, at any rate, success or calam… Would attend all in equality. There was one who sought a new roa…
Aman said to the universe, ‘Sir, I exist!’ ‘However,’ replied the universe, ‘The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.’
If there is a witness to my little… To my tiny throes and struggles, He sees a fool; And it is not fine for gods to men…
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…
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…
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…
Two or three angels Came near to the earth. They saw a fat church. Little black streams of people Came and went in continually.
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.
A man toiled on a burning road, Never resting. Once he saw a fat, stupid ass Grinning at him from a green place… The man cried out in rage,
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
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,
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:
The ocean said to me once, “Look! Yonder on the shore Is a woman, weeping. I have watched her.