#AmericanWriters
Where now the huts are empty, Where never a camp-fire glows, In an abandoned cañon, A Gambler’s Ghost arose. He muttered there, “The moon’s a…
The moon’s a little prairie-dog. He shivers through the night. He sits upon his hill and cries For fear that I will bite. The sun’s a broncho. He’s afraid
This is the sin against the Holy… To speak of bloody power as right… And call on God to guard each vil… And for such chiefs, turn men to w… To go forth killing in White Merc…
The whole world on a raft! A King… The record of his grandeur but a s… Is it his deacon-beard, or old bal… That makes the band upon his whims… Loot and mud-honey have his soul d…
Lady of Light, and our best woman… Stand now for peace, (though anger… Though naught but smoke and flame… Lady of Light, speak, though you… Though your voice may seem as a do…
A Song in Chinese Tapestries<… “How, how,” he said. “Friend Chan… “San Francisco sleeps as the dead… Ended license, lust and play: Why do you iron the night away?
(A Poem Game.) The King of Yellow Butterflies, The King of Yellow Butterflies, The King of Yellow Butterflies, Now orders forth his men.
Even the shrewd and bitter, Gnarled by the old world’s greed, Cherished the stranger softly Seeing his utter need. Shelter and patient hearing,
Part I.A Short Walk Along the C… Yes, I have walked in California, And the rivers there are blue and… Thunderclouds of grapes hang on th… Bears in the meadows pitch and fig…
(A Poem Game.) “Down cellar,” said the cricket, “Down cellar,” said the cricket, “Down cellar,” said the cricket, “I saw a ball last night,
An old actor at the Player’s Club told me that Edwin Booth first impersonated Hamlet when a barnstormer in California. There were few theatres, but the hotels were provided with crude a...
This section is a Christmas tree: Loaded with pretty toys for you. Behold the blocks, the Noah’s ark… The popguns painted red and blue. No solemn pine-cone forest-fruit,
I. THEIR BASIC SAVAGER… Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel r… Barrel-house kings, with feet unst… Sagged and reeled and pounded on t… A deep rolling bass.
I was but a half-grown boy, You were a girl-child slight. Ah, how weary you were! You had led in the bullock-fight..… We slew the bullock at length
In fairyland the little boys Would rather fight than eat their… They like to chase a gauze-winged… And catch and beat him till he squ… Sometimes they come to sleeping me…