#AmericanWriters
Gushing from the mouths of stone m… To spread at ease under the sky In granite-lipped basins, Where iris dabble their feet And rustle to a passing wind,
A drifting, April, twilight sky, A wind which blew the puddles dry, And slapped the river into waves That ran and hid among the staves Of an old wharf. A watery light
My heart is tuned to sorrow, and t… Vibrate most readily to minor chor… Searching and sad; my mind is stuf… Which voice the passion and the ac… Illusions beating with their baffl…
I know a country laced with roads, They join the hills and they span… They weave like a shuttle between… And slide discreetly through hidde… They are canopied like a Persian…
Always we are following a light, Always the light recedes; with gro… We stretch toward this glory, whil… We journey through are hidden from… Dim and mysterious, folded deep in…
High up in the apple tree climbing… With the sky above me, the earth b… Each branch is the step of a wonde… Which leads to the town I see shi… Climbing, climbing, higher and hig…
Be not angry with me that I bear Your colours everywhere, All through each crowded street, And meet The wonder-light in every eye,
The Bell in the convent tower swu… High overhead the great sun hung, A navel for the curving sky. The air was a blue clarity. Swallows flew,
I have whetted my brain until it i… So keen that it nicks off the floa… So sharp that the air would turn i… Were it to be twisted in flight. Licking passions have bitten their…
By day you cannot see the sky For it is up so very high. You look and look, but it’s so blu… That you can never see right throu… But when night comes it is quite p…
Tell me, Was Venus more beautiful Than you are, When she topped The crinkled waves,
Dear Bessie, would my tired rhyme Had force to rise from apathy, And shaking off its lethargy Ring word-tones like a Christmas… But in my soul’s high belfry, chil…
Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run; Holding up
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,
WHEN night drifts along the stre… And sifts down between the uneven… My mind begins to peek and peer. It plays at ball in old, blue Chi… And shakes wrought dice-cups in P…