#AmericanWriters
The light became her grace and dwe… Blind eyes and shadows that are fo… Lo, how the light doth melt us int… The broken sunlight for a healm sh… Who hath my heart in jurisdiction.
She passed and left no quiver in t… Moving among the trees, and clingi… in the air she severed, Fanning the grass she walked on th… Grey olive leaves beneath a rain-c…
The clouds have gathered and gathe… and the rain falls and falls, The eight ply of the heavens are all folded into one darkness, And the wide flat road stretches o…
Lived on one’s back, In the long hours of repose, Life is a practical nightmare - Hideous asleep or awake. Shoulders and loins
Les yeux d’une morte M’ont salué, Enchassés dans un visage stupide Dont tous les autres traits étaien… Ils m’ont salué
The West a glimmering lake of lig… A dream of pearly weather, The first of stars is burning whit… The star we watch together. Is April dead? The unresting year
Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi
How have I laboured? How have I not laboured To bring her soul to birth, To give these elements a name and… She is beautiful as the sunlight,…
Though thou well dost wish me ill Audiart, Audiart, Where thy bodice laces start As ivy fingers clutching through Its crevices,
Now if ever it is time to cleanse… to lead Emathian horses afield, And to name over the census of my… If I have not the faculty, ‘The b… ‘In the things of similar magnitud…
The very small children in patched… Being smitten with an unusual wisd… Stopped in their play as she passe… And cried up from their cobbles: Guarda! Ahi, guarda! Ch’ è be’ a!
The family position was waning, And on this account the little Au… Who had laughed on eighteen summer… Now bears the palsied contact of…
A brown, fat babe sitting in the l… And you were glad and laughing With a laughter not of this world. It is good to splash in the water And laughter is the end of all thi…
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…
Sez the Times a silver lining Is what has set us pining, Montague, Montague! In the season sad and weary When our minds are very bleary,
