#AmericanWriters
You took my empty dreams And filled them every one With tenderness and nobleness, April and the sun. The old empty dreams
I. Off Gilbatrar BEYOND the sleepy hills of Spai… The sun goes down in yellow mist, The sky is fresh with dewy stars Above a sea of amethyst.
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.
The winds have grown articulate in… And voiced again the wail of ancie… That smote upon the winds of long… The cries of Trojan women as they… The quivering moan of pale Androm…
“She can’t be unhappy,” you said, “The smiles are like stars in her… And her laughter is thistledown Around her low replies.” “Is she unhappy?” you said—
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…
I am wild, I will sing to the tre… I will sing to the stars in the sk… I love, I am loved, he is mine, Now at last I can die! I am sandaled with wind and with f…
O mother, I am sick of love, I cannot laugh nor lift my head, My bitter dreams have broken me, I would my love were dead. “Drink of the draught I brew for…
Wind and hail and veering rain, Driven mist that veils the day, Soul’s distress and body’s pain, I would bear you while I may. I would love you if I might,
THE days remember and the nights… The kingly hours that once you mad… Deep in my heart they lie, hidden… Buried like sovereigns in their ro… Let them not wake again, better to…
To-night I close my eyes and see A strange procession passing me— The years before I saw your face Go by me with a wistful grace; They pass, the sensitive, shy year…
SO long as my spirit still Is glad of breath And lifts its plumes of pride In the dark face of death; While I am curious still
I was a queen, and I have lost my… A wife, and I have broken all my… A lover, and I ruined him I loved… There is no other havoc left to do… A little month ago I was a queen,
I am not yours, not lost in you, Not lost, although I long to be Lost as a candle lit at noon, Lost as a snowflake in the sea. You love me, and I find you still
The spring is fresh and fearless And every leaf is new, The world is brimmed with moonligh… The lilac brimmed with dew. Here in the moving shadows
