#AmericanWriters
This, no song of an ingénue, This, no ballad of innocence; This, the rhyme of a lady who Followed ever her natural bents. This, a solo of sapience,
Daily I listen to wonder and woe, Nightly I hearken to knave or to… Telling me stories of lava and sno… Delicate fables of ribbon and lace… Tales of the quarry, the kill, the…
The ladies men admire, I’ve heard… Would shudder at a wicked word. Their candle gives a single light; They’d rather stay at home at nigh… They do not keep awake till three,
So let me have the rouge again, And comb my hair the curly way. The poor young men, the dear young… They’ll all be here by noon today. And I shall wear the blue, I thin…
I always say, I always said If I were grown and free, I’d have a gown of reddest red As fine as you could see, To wear out walking, sleek and slo…
Oh, seek, my love, your newer way; I’ll not be left in sorrow. So long as I have yesterday, Go take your damned tomorrow!
Because your eyes are slant and sl… Because your hair is sweet to touc… My heart is high again; but oh, I doubt if this will get me much.
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;
If I were mild, and I were sweet, And laid my heart before your feet… And took my dearest thoughts to yo… And hailed your easy lies as true; Were I to murmur “Yes,” and then
I dunno yer highfalutin’ words, bu… When I’m peekin’ out th’ winder o… I’ve been lookin’ 'roun’ this big… An’ I want t’ tell ye, neighbor m… I’ve ben settin’ here, a-thinkin’…
There’s many and many, and not so… Is willing to dry my tears away; There’s many to tell me what you a… And never a lie to all they say. It’s little the good to hide my he…
A dream lies dead here. May you s… Before this place, and turn away y… Nor seek to know the look of that… Importuning Life for life. Walk n… But, for a little, let your step b…
Oh, mercifullest one of all, Oh, generous as dear, None lived so lowly, none so small… Thou couldst withhold thy tear: How swift, in pure compassion,
No more my little song comes back; And now of nights I lay My head on down, to watch the blac… And wait the unfailing gray. Oh, sad are winter nights, and slo…
“Then we will have tonight!” we sa… “Tomorrow– may we not be dead?” The morrow touched our eyes, and f… Us walking firm above the ground, Our pulses quick, our blood alight…