#Americans #Modernism #FreeVerse
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge
Sooner or later we must come to the end of striving to re-establish the image the image of
contend in a sea which the land pa… shielding them from the too—heavy… of an ungoverned ocean which when… tortures the biggest hulls, the be… to pit against its beatings, and s…
Leaves are graygreen, the glass broken, bright green.
The birches are mad with green poi… the wood’s edge is burning with th… burning, seething—No, no, no. The birches are opening their leav… by one. Their delicate leaves unfo…
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
Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
