#Americans #Women
For this my mother wrapped me warm… And called me home against the sto… And coaxed my infant nights to qui… And gave me roughage in my diet, And tucked me in my bed at eight,
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.
The first time I died, I walked m… I followed the file of limping day… I held me tall, with my head flung… But I dared not look on the new m… I dared not look on the sweet youn…
I. The Minor Poet His little trills and chirpings we… No music like the nightingale’s wa… Within his throat; but he, too, la… Upon a thorn.
Leave me to my lonely pillow. Go, and take your silly posies Who has vowed to wear the willow Looks a fool, tricked out in roses… Who are you, my lad, to ease me?
Unseemly are the open eyes That watch the midnight sheep, That look upon the secret skies Nor close, abashed, in sleep; That see the dawn drag in, unbidde…
Accursed from their birth they be Who seek to find monogamy, Pursuing it from bed to bed– I think they would be better dead.
Oh, both my shoes are shiny new, And pristine is my hat; My dress is 1922.... My life is all like that.
Helen of Troy had a wandering gla… Sappho’s restriction was only the… Ninon was ever the chatter of Fra… But oh, what a good girl am I!
I shall tread, another year, Ways I walked with Grief, Past the dry, ungarnered ear And the brittle leaf. I shall stand, a year apart,
God’s acre was her garden-spot, sh… She sat there often, of the Summe… Little and slim and sweet, among t… Her hair a fable in the leveled ra… She turned the fading wreath, the…
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
Love is sharper than stones or sti… Lone as the sea, and deeper blue; Loud in the night as a clock that… Longer-lived than the Wandering J… Show me a love was done and throug…
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of so… A medley of extemporanea; And love is a thing that can never… And I am Marie of Roumania.
It costs me never a stab nor squir… To tread by chance upon a worm. “Aha, my little dear,” I say, “Your clan will pay me back one da…