#Americans #Modernism #XXCentury
When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
It is still warm enough to slip from the weeds into the lake’s edge, your clothes blushing in the grass and three small boys grinning behind the derelict hearth’s side. But summer...
When trouble comes your soul to tr… You love the friend who just “stan… Perhaps there’s nothing he can do’ The thing is strictly up to you; For there are troubles all your ow…
Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:
You know there is not much that I desire, a few chrysanthemum… half lying on the grass, yellow and brown and white, the talk of a few people, the trees,
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right
NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,
Why pretend to remember the weather two years back? Why not? Listen close then repeat after others what they have just said and win a reputation for vivacity. Oh feed upon petals o...
I lie here thinking of you:—— the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves,
Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for