#AmericanWriters
A yellow band of light upon the st… Pours from an open door, and makes… Pathway of bright gold across a sh… Of calm and liquid moonshine. Fro… Come shouts and streams of laughte…
Tell me, Was Venus more beautiful Than you are, When she topped The crinkled waves,
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…
An arid daylight shines along the… Dried to a grey monotony of tone, And stranded jelly-fish melt soft… The sun-baked pebbles, far beyond… Sparkles a wet, reviving sea. Her…
Must all of worth be travailled fo… Life’s brightest stars rise from a… Must years go by in sad uncertaint… Leaving us doubting whose the conq… Are we or Fate the victors? Time…
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…
Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap!
The stars hang thick in the apple… The south wind smells of the punge… Gold tulip cups are heavy with dew… The night’s for you, Sweetheart,… Starfire rains from the vaulted bl…
What torture lurks within a single… When grown too constant; and howev… However welcome still, the weary m… Aches with its presence. Dull rem… Remembers on unceasingly; unsought
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…
I have painted a picture of a ghos… Upon my kite, And hung it on a tree. Later, when I loose the string And let it fly,
Before the Altar, bowed, he stand… With empty hands; Upon it perfumed offerings burn Wreathing with smoke the sacrifici… Not one of all these has he given,
The wind is singing through the tr… A deep-voiced song of rushing cade… And crashing intervals. No summer… Is this, though hot July is at it… Gone is her gentler music; with de…
It winds along the face of a cliff This path which I long to explore… And over it dashes a waterfall, And the air is full of the roar And the thunderous voice of waters…
Pale, with the blue of high zenith… In smooth, running patterns, a sof… Warm from a woman’s soft shoulders… Where is she, the woman who wore i… A languor, fire-shotted, runs thro…
