#AmericanWriters
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…
AT six o’clock of an autumn dusk With the sky in the west a rusty r… The bells of the mission down in t… Cry out that the day is dead. The first star pricks as sharp as…
Like some rare queen of old romanc… Who loved the gleam of helm and la… Is she. A harper of King Arthur’s days Should praise her in a hundred lay…
There never was a mood of mine, Gay or heart-broken, luminous or d… But you could ease me of its fever And give it back to me more beutif… In many another soul I broke the…
A DIAMOND of a morning Waked me an hour too soon; Dawn had taken in the stars And left the faint white moon. O white moon, you are lonely,
She is too kind, I think, for mor… Too gentle for the gusty ways of e… God gave to her a shy and silver m… And made her soul as clear And softly singing as an orchard s…
He said: “In the winter dusk When the pavements were gleaming w… I walked thru a dingy street Hurried, harassed,
SUPPER comes at five o’clock, At six, the evening star, My lover comes at eight o’clock’ But eight o’clock is far. How could I bear my pain all day
I am the still rain falling, Too tired for singing mirth— Oh, be the green fields calling, Oh, be for me the earth! I am the brown bird pining
Fairy snow, fairy snow, Blowing, blowing everywhere, Would that I Too, could fly Lightly, lightly through the air.
My answered prayer came up to me, And in the silence thus spake he: “O you who prayed for me to come, Your greeting is but cold and dumb… My heart made answer: “You are fa…
Beneath my chamber window Pierrot was singing, singing; I heard his lute the whole night t… Until the east was red. Alas, alas Pierrot,
A half-hour more and you will lean To gather me close in the old swee… But oh, to the woman over the sea Who will come at the close of day? A half-hour more and I will hear
When beauty grows too great to bea… How shall I ease me of its ache, For beauty more than bitterness Makes the heart break. Now while I watch the dreaming se…
INTO my heart’s treasury I slipped a coin That time cannot take Nor a thief purloin,— Oh better than the minting