#AmericanWriters
I cannot rest, I cannot rest In straight and shiny wood, My woven hands upon my breast— The dead are all so good! The earth is cool across their eye…
I think that I shall never know Why I am thus, and I am so. Around me, other girls inspire In men the rush and roar of fire, The sweet transparency of glass,
The sun’s gone dim, and The moon’s turned black; For I loved him, and He didn’t love back.
Hope it was that tutored me, And Love that taught me more; And now I learn at Sorrow’s knee The self-same lore.
When I was young and bold and str… Oh, right was right, and wrong was… My plume on high, my flag unfurled… I rode away to right the world. “Come out, you dogs, and fight!” s…
In May my heart was breaking– Oh, wide the wound, and deep! And bitter it beat at waking, And sore it split in sleep. And when it came November,
Accursed from their birth they be Who seek to find monogamy, Pursuing it from bed to bed– I think they would be better dead.
My garden blossoms pink and white, A place of decorous murmuring, Where I am safe from August night And cannot feel the knife of Spri… And I may walk the pretty place
When I admit neglect of Gissing, They say I don’t know what I’m mi… Until their arguments are subtler, I think I’ll stick to Samuel But…
On sweet young earth where the myr… Long we lay, when the May was new… The willow was winding the moon in… The bud of the rose was told with… And now on the brittle ground I’m…
We shall have our little day. Take my hand and travel still Round and round the little way, Up and down the little hill. It is good to love again;
And if my heart be scarred and bur… The safer, I, for all I learned; The calmer, I, to see it true That ways of love are never new — The love that sets you daft and da…
My land is bare of chattering folk… The clouds are low along the ridge… And sweet’s the air with curly smo… From all my burning bridges.
Oh, both my shoes are shiny new, And pristine is my hat; My dress is 1922.... My life is all like that.