#AmericanWriters
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
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…
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…
Behold her, Running through the waves Eager to reach the land; The water laps her, Sun and wind are on her,
What words Are left thee then Who hast squandered on thy Forgetfulness eternity’s I Love?
THE old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that… Should weep?
Burdock, Blue aconite, And thistle and thorn. .of these Singing I wreathe my pretty wreat… O’death.
(Girl’s Song) In Babylon, in Nineveh, And long ago, and far away, The lilies and the lotus blew That are my sweet of youth to-day.
But me They cannot touch, Old age and death. .the strange And ignominious end of old Dead folk!
Pain ebbs, And like cool balm, An opiate weariness Settles on eye-lids, on relaxed Pale wrists.
With night’s Dim veil and blue I will cover my eyes, I will bind close my eyes that are So weary.
‘WHY do You thus devise Evil against her?’ ‘For that She is beautiful, delicate; Therefore.’
Still as On windless nights The moon-cast shadows are, So still will be my heart when I Am dead.
A-sway, On red rose, A golden butterfly. . And on my heart a butterfly Night-wing’d.
Every day, Every day, Tell the hours By their shadows, By their shadows.