#AmericanWriters
If I should labor through dayligh… Consecrate, valorous, serious, tru… Then on the world I may blazon my… And what if I don’t, and what if…
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,
“It’s queer,” she said; “I see th… As plain as I beheld it then, All silver—like and calm and brigh… We’ve not had stars like that agai… ”And she was such a gentle thing
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’m wearied of wearying love, my f… Of worry and strain and doubt; Before we begin, let us view the e… And maybe I’ll do without. There’s never the pang that was wo…
Oh, I should like to ride the sea… A roaring buccaneer; A cutlass banging at my knees, A dirk behind my ear. And when my captives’ chains would…
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
When I consider, pro and con, What things my love is built upon— A curly mouth; a sinewed wrist; A questioning brow; a pretty twist Of words as old and tried as sin;
On sweet young earth where the myr… Long we lay, when the May was new… The willow was winding the moon in… The bud of the rose was told with… And now on the brittle ground I’m…
Dearest one, when I am dead Never seek to follow me. Never mount the quiet hill Where the copper leaves are still, As my heart is, on the tree
I met a man the other day– A kindly man, and serious– Who viewed me in a thoughtful way, And spoke me so, and spoke me thus… “Oh, dallying’s a sad mistake;
I never see that prettiest thing– A cherry bough gone white with Sp… But what I think, “How gay 'twoul… To hang me from a flowering tree.”
When I was young and bold and str… Oh, right was right, and wrong was… My plume on high, my flag unfurled… I rode away to right the world. “Come out, you dogs, and fight!” s…
The day that I was christened– It’s a hundred years, and more!- A hag came and listened At the white church door, A-hearing her that bore me
And now I have another lad! No longer need you tell How all my nights are slow and sad For loving you too well. His ways are not your wicked ways,