#AmericanWriters
Trees and the menace of night; Then a long, lonely, leaden mere Backed by a desolate fell, As by a spectral battlement; and t… Low-brooding, interpenetrating all…
All the while they were talking th… Her eyes explored me. And when I rose to go Her fingers were like the tissue Of a Japanese paper napkin.
The jewelled steps are already qui… It is so late that the dew soaks m… And I let down the crystal curtai… And watch the moon through the cle…
O Chansons foregoing You were a seven days’ wonder. When you came out in the magazines You created considerable stir in… And now you are stale and worn out…
It rests me to be among beautiful… Why should one always lie about su… I repeat: It rests me to converse with beaut… Even though we talk nothing but no…
The harsh acts of your levity! Many and many. I am hung here, a scare-crow for l… Escape! There is, O Idiot, no es… Flee if you like into Ranaus,
Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi
This boat is of shato-wood, and it… magnolia, Musicians with jewelled flutes and… Fill full the sides in rows, and o… Is rich for a thousand cups.
Rest me with Chinese colours, For I think the glass is evil. The wind moves above the wheat– With a silver crashing, A thin war of metal.
The shadow of Dawn; Stillness and stars and over-maste… Of Life and Death and Sleep; Heard over gleaming flats, the old… Of the old, unchanging Sea.
The Past was goodly once, and yet… The best of it we know is that it’… Dwindled and faded quite, perished… Nothing is left at last of what on… Coming back like a ghost, staring…
The sea is full of wandering foam, The sky of driving cloud; My restless thoughts among them ro… The night is dark and loud. Where are the hours that came to m…
To one, on returning certain years… You wore the same quite correct cl… You took no pleasure at all in my… You had the same old air of condes… Mingled with a curious fear
What is to come we know not. But… That what has been was good—was go… Better to hide, and best of all to… We are the masters of the days tha… We have lived, we have loved, we h…
With minds still hovering above th… Certain poets here and in France Still sigh over established and na… Long since fully discussed by Ovi… They howl. They complain in delic…