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William Carlos Williams

William Carlos Williams

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.
But by this familiarity
they grew used to him, and so,
at last,
took him for their friend and adviser.

#AmericanWriters

Autres oeuvres par William Carlos Williams...
Election Day

Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
Sicilian Emigrant’€™s Song

O’€”eh’€”lee! La’€”la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
Light Hearted Author

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…
 1
The campesina dance, by Pieter Bruegel the Elder
The Dance

In Brueghel’s great picture, The… the dancers go round, they go roun… around, the squeal and the blare a… tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and f… tipping their bellies (round as th…
Postlude

NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,
Tract

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…
The Gentle Man

I feel the caress of my own finger… on my own neck as I place my colla… and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.
The Corn Harvest

Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest
Willow

It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
 1
Thursday

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—
 1
A purple iris flower
“Iris,”

a burst of iris so that come down for breakfast we searched through the rooms for
 2
Asphodel, That Greeny Flower [excerpt]

Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem— save that it’s green and wooden— I come, my sweet,
First Praise

Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…
Spring and All: by the road to the contagious hospital

By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
The Uses of Poetry

I’ve fond anticipation of a day O’erfilled with pure diversion pre… For I must read a lady poesy The while we glide by many a leafy… Hid deep in rushes, where at rando…
 1



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