#AmericanWriters
But me They cannot touch, Old age and death. .the strange And ignominious end of old Dead folk!
Meet thou the event And terrible happening of Thine end: for thou art come Upon the remote, cold place Of ultimate dissolution and
These be three silent things: The falling snow . . . the hour Before the dawn . . . the mouth of… Just dead.
Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?
I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.
As I went, as I went Over the mountains, I heard, I heard, Through cloud-wreath and mist, A hound that was baying -
What words Are left thee then Who hast squandered on thy Forgetfulness eternity’s I Love?
‘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…
Look up . . . From bleakening hills Blows down the light, first breath Of wintry wind . . . look up, and… The snow!
My songs to sell, sweet maid! I pray you buy. Here’s one will win a lady’s tears… Here’s one will make her gay, Here’s one will charm your true lo…
Than spring’s new scents The winter’s earliest wind Blows from the hills the first fai… Of Snow. Why have I
Not thou, White rose, but thy Ensanguined sister is The dear companion of my heart’s Shed blood.
‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue
Listen . . . With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break f… And fall.
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…