#AmericanWriters
Doubt no more that Oberon— Never doubt that Pan Lived, and played a reed, and ran After nymphs in a dark forest, In the merry, credulous days,—
Searching my heart for its true so… This is the thing I find to be: That I am weary of words and peop… Sick of the city, wanting the sea; Wanting the sticky, salty sweetnes…
When we are old and these rejoicin… Are frosty channels to a muted str… And out of all our burning their r… No feeblest spark to fire us, even… This be our solace: that it was no…
(Vassar College, 1918) O, loveliest throat of all sweet t… Where now no more the music is, With hands that wrote you little n… I write you little elegies!
IF I should learn, in some quite… That you were gone, not to return… Read from the back-page of a paper… Held by a neighbor in a subway tra… How at the corner of this avenue
Why do you follow me?— Any moment I can be Nothing but a laurel-tree. Any moment of the chase I can leave you in my place
Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,… Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more… Than small white single poppies,—… Thy beauty; though I bend before… From left to right, not knowing wh…
I had a little Sorrow, Born of a little Sin, I found a room all damp with gloom And shut us all within; And, “Little Sorrow, weep,” said…
Brother, that breathe the August… Ten thousand years from now, And smell—if still your orchards b… Tart apples on the bough— The early windfall under the tree,
Only until this cigarette is ended… A little moment at the end of all, While on the floor the quiet ashes… And in the firelight to a lance ex… Bizarrely with the jazzing music b…
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly… Come and see my shining palace bui…
Love, though for this you riddle m… And drag me at your chariot till… Oh, heavy prince! Oh, panderer of… Yet hear me tell how in their thro… Who shout you mighty: thick about…
To what purpose, April, do you re… Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with th… Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know.
Pity me not because the light of d… At close of day no longer walks th… Pity me not for beauties passed aw… From field and thicket as the the… Pity me not the waning of the moon…
I looked in my heart while the wil… And what did I see I had not seen… Only a question less or a question… Nothing to match the flight of wil… Tiresome heart, forever living and…