#AmericanWriters
How many million Aprils came Before I ever knew How white a cherry bough could be, A bed of squills, how blue. And many a dancing April
I heard a cry in the night, A thousand miles it came, Sharp as a flash of light, My name, my name! It was your voice I heard,
Only in sleep I see their faces, Children I played with when I was… Louise comes back with her brown h… Annie with ringlets warm and wild. Only in sleep Time is forgotten—
When the horns wear thin And the noise, like a garment outw… Falls from the night, The tattered and shivering night, That thinks she is gay;
All that could never be said, All that could never be done, Wait for us at last Somewhere back of the sun; All the heart broke to forego
I wear a crown invisible and clear… And go my lifted royal way apart Since you have crowned me softly i… With love that is half ardent, hal… And as a queen disguised might pas…
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,
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…
The summer dawn came over-soon, The earth was like hot iron at noo… In Nazareth; There fell no rain to ease the hea… And dusk drew on with tired feet
They came to tell your faults to m… They named them over one by one; I laughed aloud when they were don… I knew them all so well before, - Oh, they were blind, too blind to…
Her voice is like clear water That drips upon a stone In forests far and silent Where Quiet plays alone. Her thoughts are like the lotus
(The daughter of Sappho) When the dusk was wet with dew, Cleïs, did the muses nine Listen in a silent line While your mother sang to you?
One by one, like leaves from a tre… All my faiths have forsaken me; But the stars above my head Burn in white and delicate red, And beneath my feet the earth
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 years…
IN Warsaw in Poland Half the world away, The one I love best of all Thought of me to-day; I know, for I went