#AmericanWriters
The Fool Errant sat by the highwa… And his gaze wandered up and his g… A vigorous youth, but with no wish… Yet his longing was great for the… He whistled a little frivolous tun…
He died of “Stranger’s Fever” whe… Had scarcely melted into manhood,… The chiselled legend runs; a broth… Laid bare for epitaph. The savage… Of a sunny, bright, but alien land…
You—you— Your shadow is sunlight on a plate… Your footsteps, the seeding-place… Your hands moving, a chime of bell… The movement of your hands is the…
Good ev’nin’, Mis’ Priest. I jest stepped in to tell you Goo… Yes, it’s all over. All my things is packed An’ every last one o’ them boxes
You came to me bearing bright rose… Red like the wine of your heart; You twisted them into a garland To set me aside from the mart. Red roses to crown me your lover,
White, glittering sunlight fills t… Spotted and sprigged with shadows.… Of bartering booths spread out the… Of globed and golden fruit, the mo… Smells sweet with ripeness, on the…
As I would free the white almond… So I would strip your trappings o… Beloved. And fingering the smooth and polis… I should see that in my hands glit…
Over the housetops, Above the rotating chimney-pots, I have seen a shiver of amethyst, And blue and cinnamon have flicker… A moment,
“So . . .” they said, With their wine-glasses delicately… Mocking at the thing they cannot u… “So . . .” they said again, Amused and insolent.
My corn is green with red tassels, I am praying to the lightning to r… I am praying to the thunder which… Corn is sweet where lightning has… I pray to the six-coloured clouds.
April had covered the hills With flickering yellows and reds, The sparkle and coolness of snow Was blown from the mountain beds. Across a deep-sunken stream
This afternoon was the colour of w… The trees glittered with the tumbl… The sidewalks shone like alleys of… And the houses ran along them laug… Under a tree in the park,
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…
See! I give myself to you, Belove… My words are little jars For you to take and put upon a she… Their shapes are quaint and beauti… And they have many pleasant colour…
Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run; Holding up