#Americans #Women
Nor stars . . the dark . . and in The dark the grey Ghost glimmer of the olive trees The black straight rows Of Cypresses.
Fugitive, wistful, Pausing at edge of her going, Autumn, the maiden, turns, Leans to the earth with ineffable Gesture. Ah, more than
He comes from Mass early in the m… The sky’s the very blue Madonna w… The air’s alive with gold! Mark y… The birds sing and the dusted shim… On leaf and fruit?..Per Bacco, wh…
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.
‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue
Not thou, White rose, but thy Ensanguined sister is The dear companion of my heart’s Shed blood.
If illness’ end be health regained… Will pay you, Asculapeus, when I…
Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
Is it as plainly in our living sho… By slant and twist, which way the…
Little my lacking fortunes show For this to eat and that to wear; Yet laughing, Soul, and gaily go! An obol pays the Stygian fare. London, 1910
No guile? Nay, but so strangely He moves among us. . Not this Man but Barabbas! Release to us Barabbas!
Thou hast Drawn laughter from A well of secret tears And thence so elvish it rings, –mo… And sweet.
The immemorial grief of all years Burdes my heart sorely, and the ye… Of slow eternal crying stain my ch… Forever and forever my soul speaks Saying: I am thy self: Look on me…
JUST now, Out of the strange Still dusk . . . as strange, as st… A white moth flew . . . Why am I… So cold?
