#AmericanWriters
The long night through and still a… Estranged from eyes that very wear… Makes blind to dawn.
More dim than wining moon Thy face, mort faint Than is the falling wind Thy voice, yet do Thine eyes most strangely glow,
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…
Keep thou Thy tearless watch All night but when blue-dawn Breathes on the silver moon, then… Then weep!
Nor stars . . the dark . . and in The dark the grey Ghost glimmer of the olive trees The black straight rows Of Cypresses.
Not thou, White rose, but thy Ensanguined sister is The dear companion of my heart’s Shed blood.
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
For Aubrey Beardsley’s picture Pierrot is dying: Tiptoe in, Finger touched to lip, Harlequin,
THE old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that… Should weep?
Thou hast Drawn laughter from A well of secret tears And thence so elvish it rings, –mo… And sweet.
Behold her, Running through the waves Eager to reach the land; The water laps her, Sun and wind are on her,
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…
‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue
Hear thou my lamentation, Eros, Aphrodite’s son! My heart is broken and my days are… Where the woods are dark and the s… Eros!
So may you sleep alway, My baby, my dear son: Amen, Amen, Amen. My baby, my dear son.