FLING your red scarf faster and… It is summer and the sun loves a m… masses of green. Your red scarf flashes across them… The silk and flare of it is a grea…

THE CHILD Margaret begins to w… All the numbers come well-born, sh… Both 1 and 7 are straightforward,… The 6 and 9 salute as dancing sist… All the numbers are well-born, onl…

You have spoken the answer. A child searches far sometimes Into the red dust On a dark rose leaf And so you have gone far

They were calling certain styles o… And another manner of beard assume… Of “mutton chops,” “galways,” “fea… Metaphors such as these sprang fro… Sprang from sparrows finding scatt…

GRIEG being dead we may speak of… Grieg being dead we can talk about… Grieg being with Ibsen, Björnson… Grieg being dead does not care a h… Morning, Spring, Anitra’s Dance,

EMPTY battlefields keep their ph… Grass crawls over old gun wheels And a nodding Canada thistle flin… Into the summer’s southwest wind, Wrapping a root in the rust of a b…

WHEN the jury files in to deliver a verdict after weeks of direct and cross examinations, hot clashes of lawyers and cool decisions of the judge, There are points of high silence—twid...

WOMEN of night life amid the lig… Where the line of your full, round… Matches in gleam the glint of your… And the ring of your heart-deep la… It is much to be warm and sure of…

ON the breakwater in the summer d… girl are sitting, She across his knee and they are l… Talking to each other without word… silence to each other.

THE ROSES slanted crimson sobs On the night sky hair of the women… And the long light-fingered men Spoke to the dark-haired women, ‘Nothing lovelier, nothing lovelie…

(Handbook for Quarreling Lovers)I THOUGHT of offering you apothegms. I might have said, ‘Dogs bark and the wind carries it away.’ I might have said, ‘He who would make a door of gold mu...

IF the oriole calls like last yea… when the south wind sings in the o… if the leaves climb and climb on a… saying over a song learnt from the… if the crickets send up the same o…

DO you know how the dream looms?… Summer when the lungs of the earth… And another long breath for the si… So I shall look for you in the li… In the listening tops of the hicko…

SEVEN nations stood with their h… It was the first week in August,… I was listening, you were listenin… listening, And all of us heard a Voice murmu…

(We can succeed only by concert. . . . The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion....