(1923)
#AmericanWriters
There’s a little square in Paris, Waiting until we pass. They sit idly there, They sip the glass. There’s a cab-horse at the corner,
The houses are haunted By white night-gowns. None are green, Or purple with green rings, Or green with yellow rings,
That’s what misery is, Nothing to have at heart. It is to have or nothing. It is a thing to have, A lion, an ox in his breast,
Chieftain Iffucan of Azcan in caf… Of tan with henna hackles, halt! Damned universal cock, as if the s… Was blackamoor to bear your blazin… Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! I am the per…
Every time the bucks went clatteri… Over Oklahoma A firecat bristled in the way. Wherever they went, They went clattering,
What is divinity if it can come Only in silent shadows and in drea… Shall she not find in comforts of… In pungent fruit and bright, green… In any balm or beauty of the earth…
The cock crows But no queen rises. The hair of my blonde Is dazzling, As the spittle of cows
Light the first light of evening,… In which we rest and, for small re… The world imagined is the ultimate… This is, therefore, the intensest… It is in that thought that we coll…
One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with sno… And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged wit…
Her terrace was the sand And the palms and the twilight. She made of the motions of her wri… The grandiose gestures Of her thought.
In my room, the world is beyond my… But when I walk I see that it con… hills and a cloud. From my balcony, I survey the yel… Reading where I have written,
It is true that the rivers went no… Tugging at banks, until they seeme… Bland belly-sounds in somnolent tr… That the air was heavy with the br… The breath of turgid summer, and
Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird. I was of three minds, Like a tree
After the leaves have fallen, we r… To a plain sense of things. It is… We had come to an end of the imagi… Inanimate in an inert savoir. It is difficult even to choose the…
The time of year has grown indiffe… Mildew of summer and the deepening… Are both alike in the routine I k… I am too dumbly in my being pent. The wind attendant on the solstice…