#Americans
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,
A brown, fat babe sitting in the l… And you were glad and laughing With a laughter not of this world. It is good to splash in the water And laughter is the end of all thi…
How have I laboured? How have I not laboured To bring her soul to birth, To give these elements a name and… She is beautiful as the sunlight,…
(1907) 1 am homesick after mine own kind, Oh I know that there are folk abo… But I am homesick after mine own… ‘These sell our pictures’! Oh wel…
The Spirit of Wine Sang in my glass, and I listened With love to his odorous music, His flushed and magnificent song. —'I am health, I am heart, I am l…
Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi
The petals fall in the fountain, the orange-coloured rose-leaves, Their ochre clings to the stone.
O My songs, Why do you look so eagerly and so… people’s faces, Will you find your lost dead among…
Put of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pol… I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the full clutch of circumstance…
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…
Come, let us pity those who are be… come, my friend, and remember that the rich have butlers and no… And we have friends and no butlers… Come, let us pity the married and…
While my hair was still cut straig… I played about the front gate, pul… You came by on bamboo stilts, play… You walked about my seat, playing… And we went on living in the villa…
The family position was waning, And on this account the little Au… Who had laughed on eighteen summer… Now bears the palsied contact of…
On the loan exhibit of his paintin… You also, our first great, Had tried all ways; Tested and pried and worked in man… And this much gives me heart to pl…
We shall surely die: Must we needs grow old? Grow old and cold, And we know not why? O, the By-and-By,