#AmericanWriters
We shall surely die: Must we needs grow old? Grow old and cold, And we know not why? O, the By-and-By,
The ways are green with the gladde… Of the young year’s fairest daught… O, the shadows that fleet o’er the… O, the magic of running water! The spirit of spring is in every t…
Ha! sir, I have seen you sniffing… about among my flowers. And what, pray, do you know about horticulture, you capriped? ‘Come, Auster, come Apeliota,
The black panther lies under his r… And the fawns come to sniff at his… Evoe, Evoe, Evoe Baccho, O ZAGREUS, Zagreus, Zagreus, The black panther lies under his r…
FROM THE PROVENCAL O… Lady, since you care nothing for m… And since you have shut me away fr… Causelessly, I know not wnere to go seeking,
When I but think upon the great d… And turn my mind upon that splendi… Lo! I do curse my strength And blame the sun his gladness; For that the one is dead
Come, my songs, let us express our… Let us express our envy for the ma… You are very idle, my songs, I fear you will come to a bad end. You stand about the streets, You…
Go, my songs, to the lonely and th… Go also to the nerve-racked, go to… Bear to them my contempt for their… Go as a great wave of cool water, Bear my contempt of oppressors.
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,
I even I, am he who knoweth the r… Through the sky, and the wind ther… I have beheld the Lady of Life, I, even I, who fly with the swall… Green and gray is her raiment,
The narrow streets cut into the wi… Dark oxen, white horses, drag on the seven coaches with out… The coaches are perfumed wood, The jewelled chair is held up at t…
The pomps of butchery, financial p… Told 'em to die in war, and then t… Then cut their saving to the half… When will this system lie down in… The pomps of Fleet St., festering…
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 nightingale has a lyre of gold… The lark’s is a clarion-call, And the blackbird plays but a boxw… But I love him best of all. For his song is all of the joy of…
My City, my beloved, my white! Ah… Listen! Listen to me, and I will… Delicately upon the reed, attend m… Now do I know that I am mad, For here are a million people surl…
