#AmericanWriters
MY forefathers gave me My spirit’s shaken flame, The shape of hands, the beat of he… The letters of my name. But it was my lovers,
Wild flight on flight against the… The flames’ red wings soar upward… This is the funeral pyre and Troy… That sparkled so the day I saw it… And darkened slowly after. I am s…
Less than the cloud to the wind, Less than the foam to the sea, Less than the rose to the storm, Am I to thee. More than the star to the night,
When Love was born I think he lay Right warm on Venus’ breast, And whiles he smiled and whiles wo… And whiles would take his rest. But always, folded out of sight,
The Princess sings: I am the princess up in the tower And I dream the whole day thro’ Of a knight who shall come with a… And a waving plume of blue.
(To the maiden with the hidden fac… The other maidens raised their eye… Who stumbled in before them when t… Had left him victor, with a victor… I think his eyes with quick hot te…
Oh if I were the velvet rose Upon the red rose vine, I’d climb to touch his window And make his casement fine. And if I were the little bird
In my heart the old love Struggled with the new; It was ghostly waking All night thru. Dear things, kind things,
In the spring I asked the daisies If his words were true, And the clever, clear-eyed daisies Always knew. Now the fields are brown and barre…
I have remembered beauty in the ni… Against black silences I waked to… A shower of sunlight over Italy And green Ravello dreaming on her… I have remembered music in the dar…
The moon is a curving flower of go… The sky is still and blue; The moon was made for the sky to h… And I for you; The moon is a flower without a ste…
Oh would I were the roses, that l… The heavy burning roses she touche… Dear hands that hold the roses, wh… Oh leave, oh leave the roses, and… She draws the heart from out them,…
I said, “I will take my life And throw it away; I who was fire and song Will turn to clay.” “I will lie no more in the night
I have loved hours at sea, gray ci… The fragile secret of a flower, Music, the making of a poem That gave me heaven for an hour; First stars above a snowy hill,
Let it be forgotten, as a flower i… Forgotten as a fire that once was… Let it be forgotten forever and ev… Time is a kind friend, he will mak… If anyone asks, say it was forgott…