#AmericanWriters
And the centurion who stood by sai… Truly this was a son of God. Not long ago but everywhere I go There is a hill and a black windy… Portent of hill, sky, day’s eclips…
Heard ye the maidens Went through the meadows, Early, O, early, While yet the dew was Wet on the grass?
Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,
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,
If it Were lighter touch Than petal of flower resting On grass, oh still too heavy it we… Too heavy!
The long night through and still a… Estranged from eyes that very wear… Makes blind to dawn.
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
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…
‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue
Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?
In your Curled petals what ghosts Of blue headlands and seas, What perfumed immortal breath sigh… Of Greece.
No guile? Nay, but so strangely He moves among us. . Not this Man but Barabbas! Release to us Barabbas!
Oh me, Was there a time When Paradise knew Eve In this sweet guise, so placid and
Lo, how they weave– the imperturba… Those threads that are my destiny: Steadily at the eternal task they’… Industrious . . . indifferent . .… Weave, Fates! And what your spins…
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?