#AmericanWriters
The petals fall in the fountain, the orange-coloured rose-leaves, Their ochre clings to the stone.
O thou newcomer who seek’st Rome… And find’st in Rome no thing thou… Arches worn old and palaces made c… Rome’s name alone within these wal… Behold how pride and ruin can befa…
Earth’s winter cometh And I being part of all And sith the spirit of all moveth… I must needs bear earth’s winter Drawn cold and grey with hours
Who am I to condemn you, O Dives… I who am as much embittered With poverty As you are with useless riches?
A dainty thing’s the Villanelle. Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme, It serves its purpose passing well… A doublc-clappered silver bell That must be made to clink in chim…
Alba When the nightingale to his mate Sings day-long and night late My love and I keep state In bower,
These fought in any case, and some believing pro domo, in any case ..... Died some, pro patria, walked eye—deep in hell
THE NEO-COMMUNE Manhood of England, Dougth of the Shires, Want Russia to save ‘em And answer their prayers.
I am a grave poetic hen That lays poetic eggs And to enhance my temperament A little quiet begs. We make the yolk philosophy,
Chiming a dream by the way With ocean’s rapture and roar, I met a maiden to-day Walking alone on the shore: Walking in maiden wise,
As cool as the pale wet leaves of lily-of-the-valley She lay beside me in the dawn.
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
An image of Lethe, and the fields Full of faint light but golden, Gray cliffs,
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…
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fa… On desolate sea and lonely sand, Out of the silence and the shade What is the voice of strange comma… Calling you still, as friend calls…