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

In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…

A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing

I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…

I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine

Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves

This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...

THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—

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

O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…

School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold

I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken

The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers