#AmericanWriters
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…
The bashful Arides Has married an ugly wife, He was bored with his manner of li… Indifferent and discouraged he tho… Well do this as anything else.
That was the top of the walk, when… ‘Have you seen any others, any of… With apes or bears?’ A brown upstanding fellow Not like the half-castes,
`Tis of my country that I would e… In hope to set some misconceptions… My country? I love it well, and t… Who, since their wit’s unknown, es… But you stuffed coats who’re neith…
I have tried to write Paradise Do not move Let the wind speak that is paradise. Let the Gods forgive what I
Sing we for love and idleness, Naught else is worth the having. Though I have been in many a land… There is naught else in living. And I would rather have my sweet,
You were praised, my books, because I had just come from the c… I was twenty years behind the time… so you found an audience ready. I do not disown you,
Beautiful, tragical faces’ Ye that were whole, and are so sun… And, O ye vile, ye that might hav… That are so sodden and drunken, Who hath forgotten you?
“Pan is dead. Great Pan is dead. Ah! bow your heads, ye maidens all… And weave ye him his coronal.” “There is no summer in the leaves, And withered are the sedges;
‘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…
Some may have blamed us that we ce… Of things we spoke of in our verse… Saying: a lovely voice is such as… Saying: that lady’s eyes were sad… Wherein the world’s whole joy is b…
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
The rain and the wind, the wind an… They are with us like a disease: They worry the heart, they work th… As they shoulder and clutch at the… And savage the helpless trees.
Your mind and you are our Sargass… London has swept about you this sc… And bright ships left you this or… Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all… Strange spars of knowledge and dim…
This man knew out the secret ways… No man could paint such things who… And now she’s gone, who was his C… And you are here, who are ‘The Is… And here’s the thing that lasts th…
