#AmericanWriters
Burdock, Blue aconite, And thistle and thorn. .of these Singing I wreathe my pretty wreat… O’death.
I have no heart for noon-tide and… But I will take me where more ten… Shakes, fold on fold, her dewy dar… And shelters me that I may weep i… And feel no pitying eyes, and hear…
For Aubrey Beardsley’s picture Pierrot is dying: Tiptoe in, Finger touched to lip, Harlequin,
Lo, All the Way, Look you, I said, the clouds will… Grow clear, the road Be easier for my travelling the fi… So sodden and dead,
And the centurion who stood by sai… Truly this was a son of God. Not long ago but everywhere I go There is a hill and a black windy… Portent of hill, sky, day’s eclips…
Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,
Great Kings were dust and all the… Did my harp’s taut and burnished s… The fragrance of dead ladies’ love… Blew never down but for my lute.
Sun and wind and beat of sea, Great lands stretching endlessly’… Where be bonds to bind the free? All the world was made for me!
Keep thou Thy tearless watch All night but when blue-dawn Breathes on the silver moon, then… Then weep!
A flickering light near spent Her pale hand bore. Have you seen Angelique? Will she know the place Dead feet must find,
Listen . . . With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break f… And fall.
Musicians O Musicians: Heartseas… Heartsease: an you will have me li… Light wind in the small green leav… Play, oh play, my sad heart ease; Birds, shake from your wilding thr…
O mia Luna! Porta mi fortuna! (You must say it nine times, curts… In rose-pale, fading blue of twili… See, the new moon’s thin crescent… Nine times I’ll curtsey murmuring…
As it Were tissue of silver I’ll wear, O Fate, thy grey, And go mistily radiant, clad Like the moon.
Three grey women walk with me Fate and Grief and Memory. My fate brought grief; my grief mu… With me through Eternity, Such thy power, memory.