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William Carlos Williams

William Carlos Williams

For Viola: De Gustibus

Beloved you are
Caviar of Caviar
Of all I love you best
O my Japanese bird nest
No herring from Norway
Can touch you for flavor. Nay
Pimento itself
is flat as an empty shelf
When compared to your piquancy
   O quince of my despondency.

#AmericanWriters

Altre opere di William Carlos Williams...
The Rewaking

Sooner or later we must come to the end of striving to re-establish the image the image of
The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
 2
St. Francis Einstein of the Daffodils

"Sweet land" at last! out of sea— the Venusremembering wavelets rippling with laughter—
Asphodel, That Greeny Flower

Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem– save that it’s green and wooden– I come, my sweet,
The Cold Night

It is cold. The white moon is up among her scattered stars— like the bare thighs of the Police Sergeant’s wife—among her five children . . .
El Hombre

It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
 1
The Parable of the Blind

This horrible but superb painting the parable of the blind without a red in the composition shows a group of beggars leading
 1
The Turtle

Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.
The Wanderer

Even in the time when as yet I had no certain knowledge of her She sprang from the nest, a young… Whose first flight circled the for… I know now how then she showed me
 1
The Shadow

SOFT as the bed in the earth Where a stone has lain— So soft, so smooth and so cool, Spring closes me in With her arms and her hands.
The Thing

Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely
The Hunter in the Snow

The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
March

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
The Dark Day

A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.
The Poor

By constantly tormenting them with reminders of the lice in their children’s hair, the School Physician first brought their hatred down on him.



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