#AmericanWriters
Pain ebbs, And like cool balm, An opiate weariness Settles on eye-lids, on relaxed Pale wrists.
In the cold I will rise, I will b… In waters of ice; myself Will shiver, and shrive myself, Alone in the dawn, and anoint Forehead and feet and hands;
Meet thou the event And terrible happening of Thine end: for thou art come Upon the remote, cold place Of ultimate dissolution and
I make my shroud, but no one knows… So shimmering fine it is and fair, With stitches set in even rows, I make my shroud, but no one knows… In door-way where the lilac blows,
Avis, the fair, at dawn Rose lightly from her bed, Herself arrayed, Avis, the fait, the maid, In vestiment of lawn;
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
Heard ye the maidens Went through the meadows, Early, O, early, While yet the dew was Wet on the grass?
If it Were lighter touch Than petal of flower resting On grass, oh still too heavy it we… Too heavy!
‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue
Scarlet the poppies Blue the corn-flowers, Golden the wheat. Gold for the Eternal: Blue for Our Lady:
Joy! Joy! Joy! The hills are glad, The valleys re-echo with merriment… In my heart is the sound of laught… And my feet dance to the time of i…
‘There’s be no roof to shelter you… You’ll have no where to lay your h… And who will get your food for you… Star-dust pays for no man’s bread. So, Jacky, come give me your fidd…
The long night through and still a… Estranged from eyes that very wear… Makes blind to dawn.
If illness’ end be health regained… Will pay you, Asculapeus, when I…
JUST now, Out of the strange Still dusk . . . as strange, as st… A white moth flew . . . Why am I… So cold?