#Americans #Women
Winter put his shoulder To our door, Nights are turning colder More and more; We are old–or older
Only to tell your loveliness–this… Only to tell Pain’s odor, beauty-burning miracl… Of my surrender! Late I flew...
A middle class fortress in which t… Draw down the curtain as if saying… While noon’s ablaze, ablaze outsid… And outside people work and sweat And the day clings by and the hard…
Out of the forest, panther, come, Silken, supple, silent, lone– Out of the forest, drooped with ni… To your delight. Under bloom and over stone,
Now in the fright of change when b… In fountains of debris We say to the stranger coming acro… Not here, not here, go elsewhere! Here we keep
What husks of last year’s winter c… To-morrow’s world–what dead, what… Of ancient parchments, laws, belie… Worn, tattered layers keep the lif… Where slender as a sword, and tend…
All essences of sweetness from the… Warm day go up in vapor, when the… Comes down. Ascends the tune of m… Ascends the noon-time smell of gra… Takes sunlight from the world, and…
Now I am slow and placid, fond of… Like a sleek beast, or a worn one, No slim and languid girl – not gla… With the windy trip I once had, But velvet-footed, musing of my ow…
What time is it? Midnight and very dark. Are you afraid? No. Are you? I want to live until morning.
Red is the mouth of Pele, passion… Against the fires of the kindling… Fire to fire moves: the heavens wa… As low to earth comes crimson-drip… They kiss in thunder, shudder, suf…
Sap stirs near me, roots stretch a… Sundering stones. And rivers waken, start in monoton… Their later tunes. Oaks bend their knotted knees
The tree we lay under The thunder, the thunder Of my heart, and your wonder… And our weeping... Now we are old, we are worn, we ar…
There was a time when Mother Natu… My soul’s sun, and my soul’s shade… A cloud in the sky could take away The song in my heart for all day, And a little lark in a willow-tree
Forever lost–like birds forever fl… Searching bleak space, Circling, and with the south wind… Across earth’s face: Arrowed I fly, and like them lost…
Men go to women mutely for their p… And they, who lack it most, create… They make–because they must, lovin… A solace for sad bosom-bended head… Is all the meager peace men get–no…