#AmericanWriters
What words Are left thee then Who hast squandered on thy Forgetfulness eternity’s I Love?
With night’s Dim veil and blue I will cover my eyes, I will bind close my eyes that are So weary.
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
As I went, as I went Over the mountains, I heard, I heard, Through cloud-wreath and mist, A hound that was baying -
For Aubrey Beardsley’s picture Pierrot is dying: Tiptoe in, Finger touched to lip, Harlequin,
As it Were tissue of silver I’ll wear, O Fate, thy grey, And go mistily radiant, clad Like the moon.
Ere the horne’d owl hoot Once and twice and thrice there sh… Go among the blind brown worms News of thy great burial; When the pomp is passed away,
With swift Great sweep of her Magnificent arm my pain Clanged back the doors that shut m… From life.
Fugitive, wistful, Pausing at edge of her going, Autumn, the maiden, turns, Leans to the earth with ineffable Gesture. Ah, more than
More dim than wining moon Thy face, mort faint Than is the falling wind Thy voice, yet do Thine eyes most strangely glow,
Meet thou the event And terrible happening of Thine end: for thou art come Upon the remote, cold place Of ultimate dissolution and
‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue
If it Were lighter touch Than petal of flower resting On grass, oh still too heavy it we… Too heavy!
The shadowy boy of night Crosses the dusking land; He sows his poppy-seeds With steady, gentle hand. The shadowy boy of night
Avis, the fair, at dawn Rose lightly from her bed, Herself arrayed, Avis, the fait, the maid, In vestiment of lawn;