#Americans #Women
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…
Gnats and an ant have gnawed your… You who could spring and sprawl on… Down half the meadow. Under tiny… The ant has stored your essence.… You stitched the air with level da…
Sap stirs near me, roots stretch a… Sundering stones. And rivers waken, start in monoton… Their later tunes. Oaks bend their knotted knees
We who have seen the city’s sentin… Some iron-colored tower, monument To slow encroaching force–our thew… Against her girders! With her noi… From this our iron tongue we toll,…
Harsh, unuttered thunder Stood like a stone wall Above the marsh’s silver line. Crooked cranes, white as lightning… Flattened for an instant, flashing…
I have moved west, I travel with… You cannot hold, you cannot hinder… There are no ends for what I have… There are no resting places where… Until I am surrendered to the sea…
These were his songs. Now he has… All he has made, that has he also… Seeing my beauty budding, broke th… Finding his likeness here, where h… Finding the flame of his hurt spir…
Fifty wizards working in the wind And one tall wizard standing in th… Made a quick sheen to lacquer all… Up leapt the sun. The air was far… The weeds, the grass, the corn, th…
Put her away some place between tw… Away from the sea and the sun. She has so much to think of–must s… On your bright bosom always, Moth… Put her away, and let some other b…
Never heard happier laughter. Where did you hear it? Somwhere in the future. Very far in the future? No, not far, but near. American
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…
In the old days At barn raisings After they worked together They danced together. So lay the floor, Americans,
In that day Everyone will sing, Everyone will play in that day; There will be carolling. You will make poems for your neigh…
How tender-mad the little meadows… The wobbling lambs are tasting mil… The tipsy trees Are leaned like foam on green, win… The pale moth flutters where the p…
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…