Sobs En Route to a Penitentiary Good-by now to the streets and the… locking hubs, The sun coming on the brass buckle… The muscles of the horses sliding…

LAY me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a crowb… Let me pry loose old walls. Let me lift and loosen old foundat… Lay me on an anvil, O God.

Shine on, O moon of summer. Shine to the leaves of grass, cata… All silver under your rain to-nigh… An Italian boy is sending songs t… accordion.

Chatter of birds two by two raises… showing the russet of old stones r… And the long willows drowse on the… joined songs of day-end, feathery… It is too much for the long willow…

ALL day long in fog and wind, The waves have flung their beating… Against the palisades of adamant. My boy, he went to sea, long and l… Curls of brown were slipping under…

On Forty-first Street near Eighth Avenue a frame house wobbles. If houses went on crutches this house would be

THE single clenched fist lifted a… Or the open asking hand held out a… Choose: For we meet by one or the other.

IN the moonlight under a shag-bar… Watching the yellow shadows melt i… Listening to the yes and the no of… I kept my guess why the night was… The night was lit with a woman’s e…

THERE are places I go when I am… One is a marsh pool where I used… with a long-ear hound-dog. One is a wild crabapple tree; I w… a moonlight night with a girl.

THE bronze General Grant riding… Park Shrivels in the sun by day when th… by in long processions going somew… for dinner and matinees and buying…

OUT of the testimony of such relu… Out of a rag saturated with smears… From such a rag that has wiped the… From such a rag perhaps I shall w…

A MILLION young workmen straight and strong lay stiff on the grass and roads, And the million are now under soil and their rottening flesh will in the years feed roots of blood-red ro...

NANCY HANKS dreams by the fir… Dreams, and the logs sputter, And the yellow tongues climb. Red lines lick their way in flicke… Oh, sputter, logs.

WHAT cry of peach blossoms let loose on the air today I heard with my face thrown in the pink-white of it all? in the red whisper of it all?

A STORM of white petals, Buds throwing open baby fists Into hands of broad flowers. Red roses running upward, Clambering to the clutches of life