#AmericanWriters
With swift Great sweep of her Magnificent arm my pain Clanged back the doors that shut m… From life.
Oh Lady, let the sad tears fall To speak thy pain, Gently as through the silver dusk The silver rain. Oh, let thy bosom breathe its grie…
In the cold I will rise, I will b… In waters of ice; myself Will shiver, and shrive myself, Alone in the dawn, and anoint Forehead and feet and hands;
I have minded me Of the noon-day brightness, And the cricket’s drowsy Singing in the sunshine. . I have minded me
The clustered Gods, the marching… The mighty-limbed, deep-bosomed T… The shimmering grey-gold London f… I wish that Phidias could see!
A-sway, On red rose, A golden butterfly. . And on my heart a butterfly Night-wing’d.
Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?
Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,
Too far afield thy search. Nay, t… At thine own elbow potent Memory… Thy double, and eternity is cupped In the pale hollow of those ghostl…
THE old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that… Should weep?
Heard ye the maidens Went through the meadows, Early, O, early, While yet the dew was Wet on the grass?
The immemorial grief of all years Burdes my heart sorely, and the ye… Of slow eternal crying stain my ch… Forever and forever my soul speaks Saying: I am thy self: Look on me…
The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!
I make my shroud, but no one knows… So shimmering fine it is and fair, With stitches set in even rows, I make my shroud, but no one knows… In door-way where the lilac blows,
Great Kings were dust and all the… Did my harp’s taut and burnished s… The fragrance of dead ladies’ love… Blew never down but for my lute.