#AmericanWriters
Io! Io! Tamuz! The Dryad staiids in my court-yar… With plaintive, querulous crying. (Tamuz. Io! Tamuz!) Oh, no, she is not crying: ‘Tamuz…
March has come to the bridge head, Peach boughs and apricot boughs ha… gates, At morning there are flowers to cu… And evening drives them on the eas…
“Tout aux tavernes et aux filles.” Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-j… Or fake the broads? or fig a nag? Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack? Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?
This man knew out the secret ways… No man could paint such things who… And now she’s gone, who was his C… And you are here, who are ‘The Is… And here’s the thing that lasts th…
An image of Lethe, and the fields Full of faint light but golden, Gray cliffs,
It rests me to be among beautiful… Why should one always lie about su… I repeat: It rests me to converse with beaut… Even though we talk nothing but no…
Or ever the knightly years were go… With the old world to the grave, I was a King in Babylon And you were a Christian Slave. I saw, I took, I cast you by,
The thought of what America would… If the Classics had a wide circul… Troubles my sleep, The thought of what America, The thought of what America,
Lived on one’s back, In the long hours of repose, Life is a practical nightmare - Hideous asleep or awake. Shoulders and loins
Chant for the Transmutation of Me… Sail of Claustra, Aelis, Azalais… As you move among the bright trees… As your voices, under the larches… Make a clear sound,
Towards the Noel that morte saiso… (Christ make the shepherds’ homage… Then when the grey wolves everycho… Drink of the winds their chill sma… And lap o’ the snows food’s guered…
Though thou well dost wish me ill Audiart, Audiart, Where thy bodice laces start As ivy fingers clutching through Its crevices,
At the table beyond us With her little suede slippers off… With her white-stocking’d feet Carefully kept from the floor by a… She converses:
Winter is icummen in, Lhude sing Goddamm. Raineth drop and staineth slop, And how the wind doth ramm! Sing: Goddamm.
For three years, out of key with h… He strove to resuscitate the dead… Of poetry; to maintain “the sublim… In the old sense. Wrong from the… No, hardly, but, seeing he had bee…