#AmericanWriters
I made a hundred little songs That told the joy and pain of love… And sang them blithely, tho’ I kn… No whit thereof. I was a weaver deaf and blind;
(In Memory of J. W. T. Jr.) HE was a soldier in that fight Where there is neither flag nor dr… And without sound of musketry The stealthy foemen come.
I am a pool in a peaceful place, I greet the great sky face to face… I know the stars and the stately m… And the wind that runs with rippli… But why does it always bring to me
The kings they came from out the s… All dressed in ermine fine; They bore Him gold and chrysopras… And gifts of precious wine. The shepherds came from out the no…
When I am dead and over me bright… Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Though you shall lean above me bro… I shall not care. I shall have peace, as leafy trees…
I shall gather myself into myself… I shall take my scattered selves a… Fusing them into a polished crysta… Where I can see the moon and the… I shall sit like a sibyl, hour aft…
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…
They spoke of him I love With cruel words and gay; My lips kept silent guard On all I could not say. I heard, and down the street
IF I must go to heaven’s end Climbing the ages like a stair, Be near me and forever bend With the same eyes above me there; Time will fly past us like leaves…
Dreamily over the roofs The cold spring rain is falling, Out in the lonely tree A bird is calling, calling. Slowly over the earth
The roofs are shining from the rai… The sparrows tritter as they fly, And with a windy April grace The little clouds go by. Yet the back-yards are bare and br…
Was that his step that sounded on… Was that his knock I heard upon t… I grow so tired I almost cease to… And yet I would that he might com… It was the wind I heard, that moc…
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
It is not a word spoken, Few words are said; Nor even a look of the eyes Nor a bend of the head, But only a hush of the heart
Perhaps if Death is kind, and the… We will come back to earth some fr… And take these lanes to find the s… Breathe the same honeysuckle, low… We will come down at night to thes…