#AmericanWriters
White doves of Cytherea, by your… Across the blue Heaven’s bluest h… And by your certain homing to Lov… Still to be true and ever true -…
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
Lo, how they weave– the imperturba… Those threads that are my destiny: Steadily at the eternal task they’… Industrious . . . indifferent . .… Weave, Fates! And what your spins…
A flickering light near spent Her pale hand bore. Have you seen Angelique? Will she know the place Dead feet must find,
Was it love breathed on us as on t… Dawn breathes for a short space an… Or loved we never at all who but m… With too dim vision the guarded my… Were we unfaithful or were we unwi…
Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?
Still as On windless nights The moon-cast shadows are, So still will be my heart when I Am dead.
Look up . . . From bleakening hills Blows down the light, first breath Of wintry wind . . . look up, and… The snow!
Keep thou Thy tearless watch All night but when blue-dawn Breathes on the silver moon, then… Then weep!
Than spring’s new scents The winter’s earliest wind Blows from the hills the first fai… Of Snow. Why have I
Little Sister Rose-Marie, Will thy feet as willing-light Run through Paradise, I wonder, As they run the blue skies under, Willing feet, so airy-light?
The shadowy boy of night Crosses the dusking land; He sows his poppy-seeds With steady, gentle hand. The shadowy boy of night
Guardian Of The Treasure Of Sol… And Keeper Of the Prophet’s Armo… My tent A vapour that The wind dispels and but
Never the nightingale, Oh, my dear, Never again the lark Thou wilt hear; Though dusk and the morning still
If illness’ end be health regained… Will pay you, Asculapeus, when I…