#AmericanWriters
Thou beautiful and ivory gates That shut my tears away from me - Even, at last, such refuge yield That great, safe doors of Ebony.
Guardian Of The Treasure Of Sol… And Keeper Of the Prophet’s Armo… My tent A vapour that The wind dispels and but
The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
Lo, All the Way, Look you, I said, the clouds will… Grow clear, the road Be easier for my travelling the fi… So sodden and dead,
The shadowy boy of night Crosses the dusking land; He sows his poppy-seeds With steady, gentle hand. The shadowy boy of night
Every day, Every day, Tell the hours By their shadows, By their shadows.
Dost thou Not feel them slip, How cold! how cold! the moon’s Thin wavering finger-tips, along Thy throat?
‘WHY do You thus devise Evil against her?’ ‘For that She is beautiful, delicate; Therefore.’
Oh me, Was there a time When Paradise knew Eve In this sweet guise, so placid and
For Aubrey Beardsley’s picture Pierrot is dying: Tiptoe in, Finger touched to lip, Harlequin,
I have minded me Of the noon-day brightness, And the cricket’s drowsy Singing in the sunshine. . I have minded me
I have no heart for noon-tide and… But I will take me where more ten… Shakes, fold on fold, her dewy dar… And shelters me that I may weep i… And feel no pitying eyes, and hear…
Joy! Joy! Joy! The hills are glad, The valleys re-echo with merriment… In my heart is the sound of laught… And my feet dance to the time of i…
THE old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that… Should weep?