#AmericanWriters
Thou beautiful and ivory gates That shut my tears away from me - Even, at last, such refuge yield That great, safe doors of Ebony.
To Walter Savage Landor Ah, Walter, where you lived I rue These days come all too late for m… What matter if her eyes were blue Whose rival is Persephone?
Meet thou the event And terrible happening of Thine end: for thou art come Upon the remote, cold place Of ultimate dissolution and
With night’s Dim veil and blue I will cover my eyes, I will bind close my eyes that are So weary.
As I went, as I went Over the mountains, I heard, I heard, Through cloud-wreath and mist, A hound that was baying -
JUST now, Out of the strange Still dusk . . . as strange, as st… A white moth flew . . . Why am I… So cold?
What words Are left thee then Who hast squandered on thy Forgetfulness eternity’s I Love?
When I was girl by Nilus stream I watched the deserts stars arise; My lover, he who dreamed the Sphi… Learned all his dreaming from eyes… I bore in Greece a burning name,
The poet pursues his beautiful the… The preacher his golden beatitude; And I run after a vanishing dream… The glittering, will-o’-the-wispis… Of the properly scholarly attitude…
Never the nightingale, Oh, my dear, Never again the lark Thou wilt hear; Though dusk and the morning still
These be three silent things: The falling snow . . . the hour Before the dawn . . . the mouth of… Just dead.
The sun is warm today, O Romulus, and on Thine older Palentine the birds Still sing.
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,
I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.
Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,