#AmericanWriters
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…
When I looked into your eyes, I saw a garden With peonies, and tinkling pagodas… And round-arched bridges Over still lakes.
Whistle under the water, Make the water bubble to the tones… I call the bluebirds song into the… Wee-kee! Wee-kee-kee! Dawn is coming,
The neighbour sits in his window a… From my bed I can hear him, And the round notes flutter and ta… And hit against each other, Blurring to unexpected chords.
Who shall declare the joy of the r… Who shall tell of the pleasures of… Springing and spurning the tufts o… Sweeping, wide-winged, through the… Everything mortal has moments immo…
Poor foolish monarch, vacillating,… Decaying victim of a race of kings… Swift Destiny shook out her purpl… And caught him in their shadow; no… Could furtive plotting smear anoth…
They brought me a quilled, yellow… Opulent, flaunting. Round gold Flung out of a pale green stalk. Round, ripe gold
ONCE, in the sultry heat of mids… An Emperor caused the miniature m… To be covered with white silk, That so crowned, They might cool his eyes
You are like the stem Of a young beech-tree, Straight and swaying, Breaking out in golden leaves. Your walk is like the blowing of a…
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,
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...
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,
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,
All day long I have been working, Now I am tired I call: “Where are you?” But there is only the oak-tree rus… The house is very quiet,
It was a gusty night, With the wind booming, and swoopin… Looping round corners, Sliding over the cobble-stones, Whipping and veering,