#AmericanWriters Cantos Pisan The
At Rochecoart, Where the hills part in three ways, And three valleys, full of winding… Fork out to south and north,
O my fellow sufferers, songs of my… A lot of asses praise you because… We, you, I! We are 'Red Bloods’! Imagine it, my fellow sufferers Our maleness lifts us out of the r…
The thought of what America would… If the Classics had a wide circul… Troubles my sleep, The thought of what America, The thought of what America,
Even in my dreams you have denied… You have sent me only your handmai…
The spring, my dear, Is no longer spring. Does the blackbird sing What he sang last year? Are the skies the old
A Lady asks me I speak in season She seeks reason for an affect, wi… That is so proud he hath Love for… Who denys it can hear the truth no…
I make a pact with you, Walt Whit… I have detested you long enough. I come to you as a grown child Who has had a pig—headed father; I am old enough now to make friend…
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,
The lateral vibrations caress me, They leap and caress me, They work pathetically in my favou… They seek my financial good. She of the spear stands present.
The eyes of this dead lady speak t… For here was love, was not to be d… And here desire, not to be kissed… The eyes of this dead lady speak t…
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…
‘Being no longer human, why shou… Pretend humanity or don the frail… Men have I known and men, but nev… Was grown so free an essence, or b… So simply element as what I am.
Come, my songs, let us speak of pe… We shall get ourselves rather disl… Ah yes, my songs, let us resurrect The very excellent term Rusticus. Let us apply it in all its opprobr…
March has come to the bridge head, Peach boughs and apricot boughs ha… gates, At morning there are flowers to cu… And evening drives them on the eas…
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…