#AmericanWriters
The sky-like limpid eyes, The circular infant’s face, The stiffness from spats to collar Never relaxing into grace; The heavy memories of Horeb, Sina…
I am a grave poetic hen That lays poetic eggs And to enhance my temperament A little quiet begs. We make the yolk philosophy,
Blue mountains to the north of the… White river winding about them; Here we must make separation And go out through a thousand mile… Mind like a floating wide cloud,
O Chansons foregoing You were a seven days’ wonder. When you came out in the magazines You created considerable stir in… And now you are stale and worn out…
IN o more for us the little sighi… No more the winds at twilight trou… Lo the fair dead! No more do I burn. No more for us the fluttering of w…
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 black panther treads at my sid… And above my fingers There float the petal-like flames. The milk-white girls Unbend from the holly-trees,
I had been seen in the shade, recu… The water dripping from Belleroph… Alba, your kings, and the realm yo… have constructed with such industr… Shall be yawned out on my lyre wit…
The spring, my dear, Is no longer spring. Does the blackbird sing What he sang last year? Are the skies the old
For three years, out of key with h… He strove to resuscitate the dead… Of poetry; to maintain “the sublim… In the old sense. Wrong from the… No, hardly, but, seeing he had bee…
The phoenix are at play on their t… The phoenix are gone, the river H… Flowers and grass Cover over the dark path where lay the dynastic house of th…
To one, on returning certain years… You wore the same quite correct cl… You took no pleasure at all in my… You had the same old air of condes… Mingled with a curious fear
We are the Choice of the Will: G… That called us into line, set in o… Set us a sword to wield none else… And bade us forth to the sound of… East and west and north, wherever…
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…
Phyllidula is scrawny but amorous, Thus have the gods awarded her, That in pleasure she receives more… If she does not count this blessed Let her change her religion.