#AmericanWriters
Ere the horne’d owl hoot Once and twice and thrice there sh… Go among the blind brown worms News of thy great burial; When the pomp is passed away,
Peter stands by the gate, And Michael by the throne. ‘Peter, I would pass the gate And come before the throne.’ ‘Whose spirit prayed never at the…
The poet pursues his beautiful the… The preacher his golden beatitude; And I run after a vanishing dream… The glittering, will-o’-the-wispis… Of the properly scholarly attitude…
Thou beautiful and ivory gates That shut my tears away from me - Even, at last, such refuge yield That great, safe doors of Ebony.
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
Little Sister Rose-Marie, Will thy feet as willing-light Run through Paradise, I wonder, As they run the blue skies under, Willing feet, so airy-light?
Scarlet the poppies Blue the corn-flowers, Golden the wheat. Gold for the Eternal: Blue for Our Lady:
Madonna, Madonnina Sat by the grey road-side, Saint Joseph her beside, And Our Lord at her breast; Oh they were fain to rest,
I have no heart for noon-tide and… But I will take me where more ten… Shakes, fold on fold, her dewy dar… And shelters me that I may weep i… And feel no pitying eyes, and hear…
Still as On windless nights The moon-cast shadows are, So still will be my heart when I Am dead.
Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,
Look up . . . From bleakening hills Blows down the light, first breath Of wintry wind . . . look up, and… The snow!
Never the nightingale, Oh, my dear, Never again the lark Thou wilt hear; Though dusk and the morning still
All day, all day I brush My golden strands of hair; All day I wait and wait.. Ah, who is there? Who calls? Who calls? The gold
A-sway, On red rose, A golden butterfly. . And on my heart a butterfly Night-wing’d.