#AmericanWriters
PAPA JOFFRE, the shoulders of him wide as the land of France. We look on the shoulders filling the stage of the Chicago Auditorium. A fat mayor has spoken much English and the mud o...
(For S. A.)TO write one book in… or five books in one year, to be the painter and the thing pa… ... where are we, bo? Wait-get his number.
MAMIE beat her head against the… town and dreamed of romance and bi… somewhere the way the railroad tra… She could see the smoke of the eng… where the streaks of steel flashed…
TWENTY men stand watching the m… Stabbing the sides of the ditch Where clay gleams yellow, Driving the blades of their shovel… Deeper and deeper for the new gas…
Red barns and red heiffers spot th… grass circles around Omaha—the far… haul tanks of cream and wagon-load… cheese. Shale hogbacks across the river at…
YOU came from the Aztecs With a copper on your fore-arms Tawnier than a sunset Saying good-by to an even river. And I said, you remember,
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… A Polish boy is out with his best…
I SALUTED a nobody. I saw him in a looking-glass. He smiled—so did I. He crumpled the skin on his forehe… frowning—so did I.
BLOSSOMS of babies Blinking their stories Come soft On the dusk and the babble; Little red gamblers,
WHILE the hum and the hurry Of passing footfalls Beat in my ear like the restless s… Of a wind-blown sea, A soul came to me
DOWN between the walls of shadow Where the iron laws insist, The hunger voices mock. The worn wayfaring men With the hunched and humble should…
HAVE me in the blue and the sun. Have me on the open sea and the mo… When I go into the grass of the s… This is where I came from—the chl… It is here the nostrils rush the a…
ON the lips of the child Janet fl… It is a thin spiral of blue smoke, A morning campfire at a mountain l… On the lips of the child Janet, Wisps of haze on ten miles of corn…
YELLOW dust on a bumble bee’s wing, Grey lights in a woman’s asking eyes, Red ruins in the changing
There was a high majestic fooling Day before yesterday in the yellow… And day after to-morrow in the yel… There will be high majestic foolin… The ears ripen in late summer