#AmericanWriters
Red slippers in a shop-window, and outside in the street, flaws of grey, windy sleet! Behind the polished glass, the slippers hang in long threads of red, festooning from the ceili...
Alone, I whet my soul against the… Unwrinkled sky, with its long stre… I polish it with sunlight and pale… And damascene it with young blowin… Into the handle of my life I set
Stupefy my heart to every day’s mo… Seal up my eyes, I would not look… Chasten my steps to peaceful regul… Bow down my head lest I behold a… Fill my days with work, a thousand…
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…
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,
'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…
Dearest, forgive that with my clum… I broke and bruised your rose. I hardly could suppose It were a thing so fragile that my… Could kill it, thus.
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…
My heart is like a cleft pomegrana… Bleeding crimson seeds And dripping them on the ground. My heart gapes because it is ripe… And its seeds are bursting from it…
Forever the impenetrable wall Of self confines my poor rebelliou… I never see the towering white clo… Before a sturdy wind, save through… Barred window of my jail. I live…
I will mix me a drink of stars, — Large stars with polychrome needle… Small stars jetting maroon and cri… Cool, quiet, green stars. I will tear them out of the sky,
The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-tub...
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…
The scent of hyacinths, like a pal… between me and my book; And the South Wind, washing throu… Makes the candles quiver. My nerves sting at a spatter of ra…
Hold your soul open for my welcomi… Let the quiet of your spirit bathe… With its clear and rippled coolnes… That, loose-limbed and weary, I f… Outstretched upon your peace, as o…