#AmericanWriters
How should I sing when buffeting… And stung with bitter surges, in w… I toss, a cockleshell? The dreadf… Marshals its undefeated dark and r… In brutal madness, reeling over gr…
Cloud-topped and splendid, dominat… The little lesser hills which comp… Thou standest, bright with April’… Yet holding Winter in some shaded… Of stern, steep rock; and startled…
It was a gusty night, With the wind booming, and swoopin… Looping round corners, Sliding over the cobble-stones, Whipping and veering,
Tell me, Was Venus more beautiful Than you are, When she topped The crinkled waves,
Lilacs, False blue, White, Purple, Color of lilac,
A black cat among roses, Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-… The sweet smells of heliotrope and… The garden is very still, It is dazed with moonlight,
The snow whispers around me And my wooden clogs Leave holes behind me in the snow. But no one will pass this way Seeking my footsteps,
A near horizon whose sharp jags Cut brutally into a sky Of leaden heaviness, and crags Of houses lift their masonry Ugly and foul, and chimneys lie
How the slates of the roof sparkle… beyond the high wall! How quietly… over there, over there, sliding th… of the line, stately with canvas,… over the glittering roof, over the…
Red slippers in a shop-window; and outside in the street, flaws of gray, windy sleet! Behind the polished glass the slippers hang in long threads of red, festooning from the ceiling li...
Softly the water ripples Against the canoe’s curving side, Softly the birch trees rustle Flinging over us branches wide. Softly the moon glints and glisten…
As I sit here in the quiet Summer… Suddenly, from the distant road, t… The grind and rush of an electric… And, from still farther off, An engine puffs sharply,
The inkstand is full of ink, and t… in the round of light thrown by a… the corners, and keep rolling thro… is silver and pearl, for the night… See how the roof glitters, like ic…
A flickering glimmer through a win… A dim red glare through mud bespat… Cleaving a path between blown wall… Across uneven pavements sunk in sl… To scatter and then quench itself…
'T is you that are the music, not… The song is but a door which, open… Lets forth the pent-up melody insi… Your spirit’s harmony, which clear… Sings but of you. Throughout your…
