#AmericanWriters
My heart is heavy with many a song Like ripe fruit bearing down the t… But I can never give you one— My songs do not belong to me. Yet in the evening, in the dusk
Your face is set against a fervent… Before the thirsty hills that seve… Return the sun’s hot glory, gold o… Where Agamemnon and Cassandra lie… Your eyes are blind whose light sh…
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…
Impassioned singer of the happy ti… When all the world was waking into… And dew still glistened on the tan… And lingered on the branches of th… Oh peerless singer of the golden r…
I am free of love as a bird flying… Swift and intent, asking no joy fr… Glad to forget all of the passion… Ere it was love-free. I am free of love, and I listen t…
I think the moon is very kind To take such trouble just for me. He came along with me from home To keep me company. He went as fast as I could run;
Evening, and all the birds In a chorus of shimmering sound Are easing their hearts of joy For miles around. The air is blue and sweet,
The princess has her lovers, A score of knights has she, And each can sing a madrigal, And praise her gracefully. But Love that is so bitter
THE sun was gone, and the moon wa… Over the blue Connecticut hills; The west was rosy, the east was fl… And over my head the swallows rush… This way and that, with changeful…
Oh, because you never tried To bow my will or break my pride, And nothing of the cave-man made You want to keep me half afraid, Nor ever with a conquering air
I sought among the drifting leaves… The golden leaves that once were g… To see if Love were hiding there And peeping out between. For thro’ the silver showers of M…
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 spring is fresh and fearless And every leaf is new, The world is brimmed with moonligh… The lilac brimmed with dew. Here in the moving shadows
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
Lyric night of the lingering Indi… Shadowy fields that are scentless… Never a bird, but the passionless… Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper’s horn, and far-of…