#Americans #Jews #XXCentury #1920 #SomethingElseAgain
Sporting with Amaryllis in the sh… (I credit Milton in parenthesis), Among the speculations that she ma… Was this: “When”—these her very words—"when…
Horace: Book III, Ode 15 “Uxor pauperis Ibyci, Tandem nequitiæ fige modum tuæ—” IN CHLORIN Dear Mrs. Ibycus, accept a little…
Ah, Myrtilla mine, you said– And your tone was earnest, very– You would never deck your head With this vernal millinery. Myrt, to mince no words, you lied;
Twelve fleeting years ago my Myrt… (Ehu fugaces! maybe more) I wrote of the directoire skirt You wore. Ten years ago, Myrtilla mine,
I remember, I remember The house where I was born; The rent was thirty-two a month, Which made my father mourn. He said he could remember when
When the Festal Board, as the pap… Groans 'neath the weight of a lot… At breakfast, Fruhstuck or dejeun… (As a bard tri-lingual I’m rather… At breakfast, then, if I may repe…
“Bee” Palmer has taken the raw human—all too human—stuff of the underworld, with its sighs of sadness and regret, its mad merriment, its swift blaze of passion, its turbulent dances, it...
Horace: Book I, Ode 2 "Tu ne quæsieris, scire nefas, que… AD LEUCONOEN Look not, Leuconoë, into the futu… Seek not to find what the Answer…
Horace: Epode 14 “Mollis inertia cur tantam diffude… Maecenas, you fret me, you worry m… Demanding I turn out a rhyme; Insisting on reasons, you hurry me…
The rich man has his motor-car, His country and his town estate. He smokes a fifty-cent cigar And jeers at Fate. He frivols through the livelong da…
Horace: Book II, Elegy 8 “Eripitur nobis iam pridem cara pu… While she I loved is being torn From arms that held her many years… Dost thou regard me, friend, with…
For something like eleven summers I’ve written things that aimed to… Our careless mealy-mouthéd mummers To be more sedulous of speech. So sloppy of articulation
A soft susurrus in the night, A song whose singer is unseen– ’Twere poetry itself to write ‘A soft susurrus in the night!’ I know, as those mosquitos bite,
How narrow his vision, how cribbed… How prejudiced all of his views! How hard is the shell of his bigot… How difficult he to excuse! His face should be slapped and his…
(Who hitches laundering articles t… string and pastes them on the pane… Lady, thou that livest Just across the way, If a hang thou givest
