#AmericanWriters
Than spring’s new scents The winter’s earliest wind Blows from the hills the first fai… Of Snow. Why have I
Fugitive, wistful, Pausing at edge of her going, Autumn, the maiden, turns, Leans to the earth with ineffable Gesture. Ah, more than
Wouldst thou find my ashes? Look In the pages of my book; And as these thy hand doth turn, Know here is my funeral urn.
Not thou, White rose, but thy Ensanguined sister is The dear companion of my heart’s Shed blood.
These be three silent things: The falling snow . . . the hour Before the dawn . . . the mouth of… Just dead.
I have minded me Of the noon-day brightness, And the cricket’s drowsy Singing in the sunshine. . I have minded me
Oh Lady, let the sad tears fall To speak thy pain, Gently as through the silver dusk The silver rain. Oh, let thy bosom breathe its grie…
The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!
(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.
What words Are left thee then Who hast squandered on thy Forgetfulness eternity’s I Love?
‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue
Not spring’s Thou art, but hers, Most cool, most virginal, Winter’s, with thy faint breath, t… Rose-tinged.
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?
Madonna, Madonnina Sat by the grey road-side, Saint Joseph her beside, And Our Lord at her breast; Oh they were fain to rest,
If it Were lighter touch Than petal of flower resting On grass, oh still too heavy it we… Too heavy!