#AmericanWriters
Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that… Give me back my book and take my k… Was it my enemy or my friend I he… “What a big book for such a little… Come, I will show you now my newe…
I thought, as I wiped my eyes on… Penelope did this too. And more than once: you can’t keep… And undoing it all through the nig… Your arms get tired, and the back…
I knew her for a little ghost That in my garden walked; The wall is high—higher than most— And the green gate was locked. And yet I did not think of that
Am I kin to Sorrow, That so oft Falls the knocker of my door—— Neither loud nor soft, But as long accustomed,
Euclid alone has looked on Beauty… Let all who prate of Beauty hold… And lay them prone upon the earth… To ponder on themselves, the while… At nothing, intricately drawn nowh…
Let us abandon then our gardens an… And sit in the sitting-room Shall the larkspur blossom or the… Sour to the fruitful seed Is the cold earth under this cloud…
Not in this chamber only at my bir… When the long hours of that myster… Were over, and the morning was in… I cried, but in strange places, st… I have not seen, through alien gri…
“Thin Rain, whom are you haunting… That you haunt my door?” —Surely it is not I she’s wanting… Someone living here before— “Nobody’s in the house but me:
I am not resigned to the shutting… So it is, and so it will be, for s… Into the darkness they go, the wis… With lilies and with laurel they g… Lovers and thinkers, into the eart…
Give away her gowns, Give away her shoes; She has no more use For her fragrant gowns; Take them all down,
How shall I know, unless I go To Cairo and Cathay, Whether or not this blessed spot Is blest in every way? Now it may be, the flower for me
No hawk hangs over in this air: The urgent snow is everywhere. The wing adroiter than a sail Must lean away from such a gale, Abandoning its straight intent,
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…
We were very tired, we were very m… We had gone back and forth all nig… It was bare and bright, and smelle… But we looked into a fire, we lean… We lay on the hill-top underneath…
Here is a wound that never will he… Being wrought not of a dearness an… But of a love turned ashes and the… Gone out of beauty; never again wi… The grass on that scarred acre, th…