#AmericanWriters
Half a loaf, half a loaf, Half a loaf? Urn-hum? Down through the vale of gloom Slouched the ten million, Onward th’ 'ungry blokes,
(Ex libris Graecæ) Theodorus will be pleased at my de… And .someone else will be pleased… And yet everyone speaks evil of de… This place is the Cyprian’s for s…
The baby new to earth and sky Has never until now Unto himself the question put Or asked us if the cow Is higher in the mental scale
’Tis not a game that plays at mate… Provençe knew; ’Tis not a game of barter, lands a… Provençe knew. We who are wise beyond your dream…
‘Tis Evanoe’s, A house not made with hands, But out somewhere beyond the world… Her gold is spread, above, around,… Strange ways and walls are fashion…
When the wind storms by with a sho… Rejoice in the tramp and the roar… Then, then, it comes home to the h… Is the passion that burns the bloo… Till you pity the dead down there…
In the cream gilded cabin of his s… Mr. Nixon advised me kindly, to a… Dangers of delay. ‘Consider Carefully the reviewer. ’I was as poor as you are;
The surges gushed and sounded, The blue was the blue of June, And low above the brightening east Floated a shred of moon. The woods were black and solemn,
An image of Lethe, and the fields Full of faint light but golden, Gray cliffs,
Italian Campagna 1309, the open r… Bah! I have sung women in three c… But it is all the same; And I will sing of the sun. Lips, words, and you snare them,
It is, and is not, I am sane enou… Since you have come this place has… This fabrication built of autumn r… Then there’s a goldish colour, dif… And one gropes in these things as…
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.
Listen, my children, and you shall… The midnight activities of Whats-… Scarcely a general now known to fa… Can tell you of that famous day an… When feeble Mr. Asquith, getting…
A square, squat room (a cellar on… Drab to the soul, drab to the very… Plasters astray in unnatural-looki… Scissors and lint and apothecary’s… Here, on a bench a skeleton would…
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.
