#AmericanWriters
He will love you presently If you be the way you be. Send your heart a-skittering. He will stoop, and lift the thing. Be your dreams as thread, to tease
I dunno yer highfalutin’ words, bu… When I’m peekin’ out th’ winder o… I’ve been lookin’ 'roun’ this big… An’ I want t’ tell ye, neighbor m… I’ve ben settin’ here, a-thinkin’…
This, no song of an ingénue, This, no ballad of innocence; This, the rhyme of a lady who Followed ever her natural bents. This, a solo of sapience,
The sun’s gone dim, and The moon’s turned black; For I loved him, and He didn’t love back.
... So, praise the gods, Catullus… And let me tend you this advice, m… Take any lover that you will, or m… Except a poet. All of them are qu… It’s just the same– a quarrel or a…
So take my vows and scatter them t… Who swears the sweetest is no more… And say no kinder words than these… “Ever she longed for peace, but wa… And thus they are, whose silly fem…
In youth, it was a way I had To do my best to please, And change, with every passing lad… To suit his theories. But now I know the things I know,
Maidens, gather not the yew, Leave the glossy myrtle sleeping; Any lad was born untrue, Never a one is fit your weeping. Pretty dears, your tumult cease;
“And if he’s gone away,” said she, “Good riddance, if you’re asking m… I’m not a one to lie awake And weep for anybody’s sake. There’s better lads than him about…
This is what I vow; He shall have my heart to keep, Sweetly will we stir and sleep, All the years, as now. Swift the measured sands may run;
There’s little in taking or giving… There’s little in water or wine; This living, this living, this liv… Was never a project of mine. Oh, hard is the struggle, and spar…
So silent I when Love was by He yawned, and turned away; But Sorrow clings to my apron-str… I have so much to say.
For one, the amaryllis and the ros… The poppy, sweet as never lilies a… The ripen’d vine, that beckons as… The dancing star. For one, the trodden rosemary and…
My garden blossoms pink and white, A place of decorous murmuring, Where I am safe from August night And cannot feel the knife of Spri… And I may walk the pretty place
I never may turn the loop of a roa… Where sudden, ahead, the sea is ly… But my heart drags down with an an… My heart, that a second before was… I never behold the quivering rain—