#AmericanWriters
I have minded me Of the noon-day brightness, And the cricket’s drowsy Singing in the sunshine. . I have minded me
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…
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…
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
The clustered Gods, the marching… The mighty-limbed, deep-bosomed T… The shimmering grey-gold London f… I wish that Phidias could see!
The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!
So may you sleep alway, My baby, my dear son: Amen, Amen, Amen. My baby, my dear son.
Is it as plainly in our living sho… By slant and twist, which way the…
Great Kings were dust and all the… Did my harp’s taut and burnished s… The fragrance of dead ladies’ love… Blew never down but for my lute.
Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?
Still as On windless nights The moon-cast shadows are, So still will be my heart when I Am dead.
The shadowy boy of night Crosses the dusking land; He sows his poppy-seeds With steady, gentle hand. The shadowy boy of night
Oh me, Was there a time When Paradise knew Eve In this sweet guise, so placid and
Look up . . . From bleakening hills Blows down the light, first breath Of wintry wind . . . look up, and… The snow!
Every day, Every day, Tell the hours By their shadows, By their shadows.