#Americans #Suicide #XIXCentury #XXCentury
(What Grandpa told the Childre… The moon? It is a griffin’s egg, Hatching to-morrow night. And how the little boys will watch With shouting and delight
[Written to the Most Beautiful… MAnd never have I been in love wi… Always aspiring to be set in tune With one who is invisible, inhuman… O laughing girl, cold TRUTH has…
The moon’s a holy owl-queen. She keeps them in a jar Under her arm till evening, Then sallies forth to war. She pours the owls upon us.
He coveted her portrait. He toiled as she grew gay. She loved to see him labor In that devoted way. And in the end it pleased her,
UNDER THE BLESSING… Though I have found you llke a sn… On sunny days have found you weak… Though I have often held your gir… Drooped on my shoulder, faint from…
‘There’s machinery in the butterfl… There’s a mainspring to the bee; There’s hydraulics to a daisy, And contraptions to a tree. ‘If we could see the birdie
[During an anti-saloon campaign… In the midst of the battle I turn… (For the thunders could flourish w… And hid by a rose-hung wall, Forgetting the murder about me;
[This is the hymn to Eleanor,… This is a song to the white-armed… Cold in the breast as the frost-wr… Whose feet are slow on the hills o… Whose round mouth rules by whisper…
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.
(A Poem Game.) The King of Yellow Butterflies, The King of Yellow Butterflies, The King of Yellow Butterflies, Now orders forth his men.
Girl with the burning golden eyes, And red-bird song, and snowy throa… I bring you gold and silver moons And diamond stars, and mists that… I bring you moons and snowy clouds…
The moon’s an open furnace door Where all can see the blast, We shovel in our blackest griefs, Upon that grate are cast Our aching burdens, loves and fear…
Ah, she was music in herself, A symphony of joyousness. She sang, she sang from finger tip… From every tremble of her dress. I saw sweet haunting harmony,
The moon’s a steaming chalice, Of honey and venom-wine. A little of it sipped by night Makes the long hours divine. But oh, my reckless lovers,
True Love is founded in rocks of… In stones of Forbearance and mort… The workman lays wearily granite o… And bleeds for his castle, 'mid su… Love is not velvet, not all of it…
