#AmericanWriters
DEATH went up the hall Unseen by every one, Trailing twilight robes Past the nurse and the nun. He paused at every door
I sang a song at dusking time Beneath the evening star, And Terence left his latest rhyme To answer from afar. Pierrot laid down his lute to weep…
I MADE you many and many a song, Yet never one told all you are’ It was as though a net of words Were flung to catch a star; It was as though I curved my hand
Was Time not harsh to you, or was… O pale Erinna of the perfect lyre… That he has left no word of singin… Whereby you waked the dreaming Le… And kindled night along the lyric…
As the waves of perfume, heliotrop… Float in the garden when no wind b… Come to us, go from us, whence no… So the old tunes float in my mind, And go from me leaving no trace be…
All beauty calls you to me, and yo… Past twice a thousand miles of shi… To reach me. You are as the wind… Here on the ship’s sun-smitten top… With only light between the heaven…
In my heart the old love Struggled with the new, It was ghostly waking All night through. Dear things, kind things
You took my empty dreams And filled them every one With tenderness and nobleness, April and the sun. The old empty dreams
Crisply the bright snow whispered, Crunching beneath our feet; Behind us as we walked along the p… Our shadows danced, Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.
Willow in your April gown Delicate and gleaming, Do you mind in years gone by All my dreaming? Spring was like a call to me
Lo, I am happy, for my eyes have… Joy glowing here before me, face t… His wings were arched above me for… I kissed his lips, no bitter came… The air is vibrant where his feet…
The April night is still and swee… With flowers on every tree; Peace comes to them on quiet feet, But not to me. My peace is hidden in his breast
Now while my lips are living Their words must stay unsaid, And will my soul remember To speak when I am dead? Yet if my soul remembered
The fountain shivers lightly in th… The laurels drip, the fading roses… The marble satyr plays a mournful… That leaves the rainy fragrance mu… Oh dripping laurel, Phoebus sacre…
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…