#AmericanWriters
‘There’s be no roof to shelter you… You’ll have no where to lay your h… And who will get your food for you… Star-dust pays for no man’s bread. So, Jacky, come give me your fidd…
JUST now, Out of the strange Still dusk . . . as strange, as st… A white moth flew . . . Why am I… So cold?
Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,
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
‘WHY do You thus devise Evil against her?’ ‘For that She is beautiful, delicate; Therefore.’
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.
Fugitive, wistful, Pausing at edge of her going, Autumn, the maiden, turns, Leans to the earth with ineffable Gesture. Ah, more than
Behold her, Running through the waves Eager to reach the land; The water laps her, Sun and wind are on her,
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…
So may you sleep alway, My baby, my dear son: Amen, Amen, Amen. My baby, my dear son.
The sun is warm today, O Romulus, and on Thine older Palentine the birds Still sing.
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…
Nor stars . . the dark . . and in The dark the grey Ghost glimmer of the olive trees The black straight rows Of Cypresses.
Reap, reap the grain and gather The sweet grapes from the vine; Our Lord’s mother is weeping, She hath nor bread nor wine; She is weeping. The Queen of Hea…
Scarlet the poppies Blue the corn-flowers, Golden the wheat. Gold for the Eternal: Blue for Our Lady: