#Americans #Modernism #XXCentury
The birches are mad with green poi… the wood’s edge is burning with th… burning, seething—No, no, no. The birches are opening their leav… by one. Their delicate leaves unfo…
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
THERE is a bird in the poplars— It is the sun! The leaves are little yellow fish Swimming in the river; The bird skims above them—
There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of
Among of green stiff old
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 thefield by force; the grass
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway
Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…
Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on