#AmericanWriters
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.
Be in me as the eternal moods of the bleak wind, and not As transient things are— gaiety of flowers. Have me in the strong loneliness
Staring corpselike at the ceiling, See his harsh, unrazored features, Ghastly brown against the pillow, And his throat-so strangely bandag… Lack of work and lack of victuals,
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
O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patr… Give me in due time, I beseech yo… With the little bright boxes piled up neatly upon the shelves And the loose fragrant cavendish
Aye! I am a poet and upon my tomb Shall maidens scatter rose leaves And men myrtles, ere the night Slays day with her dark sword. ‘Lo! this thing is not mine
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…
When earth’s last thesis is copied From the theses that went before, When idea from fact has departed And bare—boned factlets shall bore… When all joy shall have fled from…
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,
They say the roads of Sanso are s… Sheer as the mountains. The walls rise in a man’s face, Clouds grow out of the hill at his horse’s bridle.
Red knights, brown bishops, bright… Striking the board, falling in str… colour. Reaching and striking in angles, holding lines in one colour.
FROM THE ITALIAN OF LE… Such wast thou, Who art now But buried dust and rusted skeleto… Above the bones and mire,
Let some new lying ass, Who knows not what is or was, Talk economics, Pay for his witless noise, Get the kid nice new toys,
«I am thy soul, Nikoptis. I have… These five millennia, and thy dead… Moved not, nor ever answer my desi… And thy light limbs, wherethrough… Burn not with me nor any saffron t…
WIND Scarce and thin, scarce and thin The government’s excuse, Never at all will they do Aught of the slightest use.