WHERE shall I find you— You, my grotesque fellows That I seek everywhere To make up my band? None, not one

The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices

You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich

Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves or at best against treacherous

Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on

Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and— In the tall, dried grasses

Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…

All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among

Constantly near you, I never in m… sixty-four years knew you so well… or half so well. We talked. you we… so lucid, so disengaged from all e… of place and time. We talked of ou…

There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind

In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square

Oh, black Persian cat! Was not your life already cursed with offspring? We took you for rest to that old Yankee farm, —so lonely

I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter