#AmericanWriters
Where else in all America are we… As in this hall? White columns polished like glass, A dome and a dome, A balcony and a balcony,
Stupefy my heart to every day’s mo… Seal up my eyes, I would not look… Chasten my steps to peaceful regul… Bow down my head lest I behold a… Fill my days with work, a thousand…
But why did I kill him? Why? Why… In the small, gilded room, near th… My ears rack and throb with his cr… And his eyes goggle under his hair… As my fingers sink into the fair
When you, my Dear, are away, away… How wearily goes the creeping day. A year drags after morning, and ni… Starts another year of candle ligh… O Pausing Sun and Lingering Moon…
What charm is yours, you faded old… Of outworn, childish mysteries, Vague pageants woven on a web of d… And we, pushing and fighting in th… Of modern life, find solace in you…
Softly the water ripples Against the canoe’s curving side, Softly the birch trees rustle Flinging over us branches wide. Softly the moon glints and glisten…
How should I sing when buffeting… And stung with bitter surges, in w… I toss, a cockleshell? The dreadf… Marshals its undefeated dark and r… In brutal madness, reeling over gr…
He shouts in the sails of the ship… He steals the down from the honeyb… He makes the forest trees rustle a… He twirls my kite till it breaks i… Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Near where I live there is a lake As blue as blue can be, winds make It dance as they go blowing by. I think it curtseys to the sky. It’s just a lake of lovely flowers
From out the dragging vastness of… Wave-fettered, bound in sinuous, s… He toils toward the rounding beach… One moment, white and dripping, si… Cut like a cameo in lazuli,
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum. I call out for you against the jut… And shout into the ridges of the w…
Great master! Boyish, sympathetic… Whose orbed and ripened genius lig… From life’s slim, twisted tendril… In crimson-sphered completeness; g… Of crystal portals through whose o…
Thou father of the children of my… By thee engendered in my willing h… How can I thank thee for this gif… Poured out so lavishly, and not in… What thou created never more can d…
My heart is tuned to sorrow, and t… Vibrate most readily to minor chor… Searching and sad; my mind is stuf… Which voice the passion and the ac… Illusions beating with their baffl…
They have watered the street, It shines in the glare of lamps, Cold, white lamps, And lies Like a slow-moving river,