#AmericanWriters
Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth ——nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking the field by force; the grass
This quiet morning light reflected, how many times from grass and tress and clouds enters my north room touching the walls with
WHERE shall I find you— You, my grotesque fellows That I seek everywhere To make up my band? None, not one
Well, Lizzie Anderson! seventeen… the baby hard to find a father for… What will the good Father in Heav… to the local judge if he do not so… A little two-pointed smile and—pou…
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
Little round moon up there—wait awhile—do not walk so quickly. I could sing you a song—: Wine clear the sky is and the stars no bigger than sparks! Wait for me and next winter we’ll bui...
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
Even in the time when as yet I had no certain knowledge of her She sprang from the nest, a young… Whose first flight circled the for… I know now how then she showed me
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
It’s all in the sound. A song. Seldom a song. It should be a song—made of particulars, wasps,