#AmericanWriters
Cut if you will, with Sleep’s dul… Each day to half its length, my fr… The years that Time take off my l… He’ll take from off the other end!
Love has gone and left me and the… Eat I must, and sleep I will,—and… here! But ah!—to lie awake and hear the… Would that it were day again!—with…
“Curse thee, Life, I will live wi… Thou hast mocked me, starved me, b… And all for a pledge that was not… I have kissed thy crust and eaten… That I might eat again, and met t…
And do you think that love itself, Living in such an ugly house, Can prosper long? We meet and part; Our talk is all of heres and nows,
And if I loved you Wednesday, Well, what is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - So much is true. And why you come complaining
This door you might not open, and… So enter now, and see for what sli… You are betrayed.... Here is no t… No cauldron, no clear crystal mirr… The sought-for truth, no heads of…
Oh, Prue she has a patient man, And Joan a gentle lover, And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-h… But my true love’s a rover! Mig, her man’s as good as cheese
Not even my pride shall suffer muc… Not even my pride at all, maybe, If this ill-timed, intemperate clu… Be loosed by you and not by me, Will suffer; I have been so true
Oh, come, my lad, or go, my lad, And love me if you like. I shall not hear the door shut Nor the knocker strike. Oh, bring me gifts or beg me gifts…
Death devours all lovely things; Lesbia with her sparrow Shares the darkness,—presently Every bed is narrow. Unremembered as old rain
Being Young and Green, I said in… Never in the world will I to livi… Give over, air my mind To anyone, Hang out its ancient secrets in th…
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,
As I sat down by Saddle Stream To bathe my dusty feet there, A boy was standing on the bridge Any girl would meet there. As I went over Woody Knob
Still must the poet as of old, In barren attic bleak and cold, Starve, freeze, and fashion verses… Such things as flowers and song an… Still as of old his being give
“Son,” said my mother, When I was knee-high, “You’ve need of clothes to cover y… And not a rag have I. “There’s nothing in the house