#AmericanWriters
Would that by Hindu magic we beca… Dark monks of jeweled India long… Sitting at Prince Siddartha’s fee… The foolishness of gold and love a… The gospel of the Great Renunciat…
Let not young souls be smothered o… They do quaint deeds and fully fla… It is the world’s one crime its ba… Its poor are ox-like, limp and lea… Not that they starve; but starve s…
This poem is intended as a description of a sort of Blashfield mural painting on the sky. To be sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle, yet in a slower, more orotund fashion. It is presum...
I asked her, “Is Aladdin’s lamp Hidden anywhere?” “Look into your heart,” she said, “Aladdin’s lamp is there.” She took my heart with glowing han…
Where is David? . . . O God’s pe… Saul has passed, the good and grea… Mourn for Saul the first-anointed… Head and shoulders o’er the state. He was found among the Prophets:
An old actor at the Player’s Club told me that Edwin Booth first impersonated Hamlet when a barnstormer in California. There were few theatres, but the hotels were provided with crud...
(To be sung by a leader and chorus… I’ve been to Palestine. What did you see in Palestine? I saw the ark of Noah— It was made of pitch and pine.
Factory windows are always broken. Somebody’s always throwing bricks, Somebody’s always heaving cinders, Playing ugly Yahoo tricks. Factory windows are always broken.
Let not our town be large, remembe… That little Athens was the Muses’… That Oxford rules the heart of Lo… That Florence gave the Renaissanc… Record it for the grandson of your…
Oh, saucy gold circle of fairyland… Impudent, intimate, delicate treas… A noose for my heart and a ring fo… Here in my study you sing me a mea… Whimsy and song in my little gray…
Why do I see these empty boats, s… One haunted me the whole night lon… Returning always near the eaves, o… There it will wait me many weeks,… Each soul is haunted by a ship in…
Within the town of Buffalo Are prosy men with leaden eyes. Like ants they worry to and fro, (Important men, in Buffalo.) But only twenty miles away
Would that the lying rulers of the… Were brought to block for tyrannie… Would that the sword of Cromwell… The sword of Joshua and Gideon, Hewed hip and thigh the hosts of…
[A Poem for Aviators] How the Wings Were Made From many morning-glories That in an hour will fade, From many pansy buds
If you lay for Iago at the stage… You have missed the moral of the p… He will have a midnight supper wit… They will chirp together and be ga… But the things Iago stands for mu…