#AmericanWriters
I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.
Grey gaolers are my griefs That will not let me free; The bitterness of tears Is warder unto me. I may not leap or run;
Musicians O Musicians: Heartseas… Heartsease: an you will have me li… Light wind in the small green leav… Play, oh play, my sad heart ease; Birds, shake from your wilding thr…
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…
Than spring’s new scents The winter’s earliest wind Blows from the hills the first fai… Of Snow. Why have I
O mia Luna! Porta mi fortuna! (You must say it nine times, curts… In rose-pale, fading blue of twili… See, the new moon’s thin crescent… Nine times I’ll curtsey murmuring…
Little my lacking fortunes show For this to eat and that to wear; Yet laughing, Soul, and gaily go! An obol pays the Stygian fare. London, 1910
A-sway, On red rose, A golden butterfly. . And on my heart a butterfly Night-wing’d.
If illness’ end be health regained… Will pay you, Asculapeus, when I…
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…
If it Were lighter touch Than petal of flower resting On grass, oh still too heavy it we… Too heavy!
When I was girl by Nilus stream I watched the deserts stars arise; My lover, he who dreamed the Sphi… Learned all his dreaming from eyes… I bore in Greece a burning name,
Every day, Every day, Tell the hours By their shadows, By their shadows.
‘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…
As I went, as I went Over the mountains, I heard, I heard, Through cloud-wreath and mist, A hound that was baying -