#Americans #Modernism
I lie here thinking of you:—— the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves,
You know there is not much that I desire, a few chrysanthemum… half lying on the grass, yellow and brown and white, the talk of a few people, the trees,
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…
First he said: It is the woman in us That makes us write– Let us acknowledge it– Men would be silent.
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of
An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees
Leaves are graygreen, the glass broken, bright green.
All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among
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…
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.
One leaves his leaves at home beomg a mullen and sends up a ligh… to peer from: I will have my way, yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten fifty, a hundred, smaller and smal…
This plot of ground facing the waters of this inlet is dedicated to the living presenc… Emily Dickinson Wellcome who was born in England; married;
