#AmericanWriters
STEELY stars and moon of brass, How mockingly you watch me pass! You know as well as I how soon I shall be blind to stars and moon… Deaf to the wind in the hemlock tr…
If I should see your eyes again, I know how far their look would go… Back to a morning in the park With sapphire shadows on the snow. Or back to oak trees in the spring
I shall bury my weary Love Beneath a tree, In the forest tall and black Where none can see. I shall put no flowers at his head…
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;
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
When April bends above me And finds me fast asleep Dust need not keep the secret A live heart died to keep. When April tells the thrushes,
DAY, you have bruised and beaten… As rain beats down the bright, pro… Beaten my body, bruised my soul, Left me nothing lovely or whole— Yet I have wrested a gift from yo…
OH to be free of myself, With nothing left to remember, To have my heart as bare As a tree in December; Resting, as a tree rests
He said: “In the winter dusk When the pavements were gleaming w… I walked thru a dingy street Hurried, harassed,
He trod the earth but yesterday, And now he treads the stars. He left us in the April time He praised so often in his rhyme, He left the singing and the lyre a…
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…
You bound strong sandals on my fee… You gave me bread and wine, And sent me under sun and stars, For all the world was mine. Oh, take the sandals off my feet,
After a year I came again to the… The tireless lights and the reverb… The angry thunder of trains that b… The hunted, hurrying people were s… But oh, another man beside me and…
As kings, seeing their lives about… Take off the heavy ermine and the… So had the trees that autumn-time… Their golden garments on the dying… When I, who watched the seasons i…
Shall we, too, rise forgetful from… And shall my soul that lies within… Remember nothing, as the blowing s… Forgets the palm where long blue s… When winds along the darkened dese…
