#AmericanWriters
Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?
Not thou, White rose, but thy Ensanguined sister is The dear companion of my heart’s Shed blood.
In the cold I will rise, I will b… In waters of ice; myself Will shiver, and shrive myself, Alone in the dawn, and anoint Forehead and feet and hands;
A-sway, On red rose, A golden butterfly. . And on my heart a butterfly Night-wing’d.
To Walter Savage Landor Ah, Walter, where you lived I rue These days come all too late for m… What matter if her eyes were blue Whose rival is Persephone?
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
Meet thou the event And terrible happening of Thine end: for thou art come Upon the remote, cold place Of ultimate dissolution and
Heard ye the maidens Went through the meadows, Early, O, early, While yet the dew was Wet on the grass?
Dost thou Not feel them slip, How cold! how cold! the moon’s Thin wavering finger-tips, along Thy throat?
For Aubrey Beardsley’s picture Pierrot is dying: Tiptoe in, Finger touched to lip, Harlequin,
White doves of Cytherea, by your… Across the blue Heaven’s bluest h… And by your certain homing to Lov… Still to be true and ever true -…
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…
A flickering light near spent Her pale hand bore. Have you seen Angelique? Will she know the place Dead feet must find,
Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,
(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.