#Americans
The mad girl with the staring eyes… Hooked in the stones of the wall, The storm-wrack hair and screechin… Whether the people believe Your bitter fountain? Truly men h…
The days shorten, the south blows… The south wind shouts to the river… The rivers open their mouths and t… Race up into the freshet. In Christmas month against the sm…
Here is a symbol in which Many high tragic thoughts Watch their own eyes. This gray rock, standing tall On the headland, where the seawind
That public men publish falsehoods Is nothing new. That America must… Like the historical republics corr… Has been known for years. Be angry at the sun for setting
Some lucky day each November grea… drawn Like smoking mountains bright from… And come and cover the cliff with… suddenly
Farther up the gorge the sea’s voi… We heard a new noise far away ahea… it might have been some unpleasant… Bedded in a matrix of long silence… cabin lost in the redwoods,
The old voice of the ocean, the bi… (Winter has given them gold for si… To stain their water and bladed gr… From different throats intone one… So I believe if we were strong en…
A flight of six heavy-motored bomb… Went over the beautiful inhuman ri… the incident stuck itself in my me… More than a flight of band-tail pi… Because those wings of man and pot…
(NOVEMBER, 1918) Peace now for every fury has had h… Their natural make is moribund, th… They carry the inward seeds of qui… Build breakwaters for storm but bu…
Joy is a trick in the air; pleasur… contemptible, the dangled Carrot the ass follows to market o… But limitary pain—the rock under t… and the hewn coping
At night, toward dawn, all the lig… And the wind moves. Moves in the… The sleeping power of the ocean, n… Not to be compared; itself and its… Its breath blown shoreward huddles…
The heroic stars spending themselv… Coining their very flesh into bull… They must burn out at length like… And Mother Night will weep in her… There is the stuff for an epic poe…
I. TO DESIRE (Here a dancer enters and dances.) Who is she that is fragrant and de… Clothed but enough to wake wantonn… And proud of her polished lithe bo…
The little one-room schoolhousc am… Opened its door, a dozen children… And saw on the narrow road between… A persona girl by the long light-c… The torn brown cloak that she wore…
That sculptor we knew, the passion… Who astonished Rome and Paris in… was gone, at his high tide of triu… Without reason or good-bye; I hav… twenty years, but not in Europe.