#Americans #Modernism #FreeVerse
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
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
Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway
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
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor
Snow falls: years of anger following hours that float idly down — the blizzard drifts its weight
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices
By constantly tormenting them with reminders of the lice in their children’s hair, the School Physician first brought their hatred down on him.
Rather notice, mon cher, that the moon is titled above the point of the steeple than that its color
Oh strong—ridged and deeply hollow… nose of mine! what will you not be… What tactless asses we are, you an… always indiscriminate, always unas… and now it is the souring flowers…
