#AmericanWriters
Here we are, picking the first fer… And saying: When shall we get bac… Here we are because we have the K… We have no comfort because of thes… We grub the soft fern—shoots,
For I was a gaunt, grave councill… Being in all things wise, and very… But I have put aside this folly a… That old age weareth for a cloak. I was quite strong—at least they s…
ROSE WHITE, YELLOW, SILV… The swirl of light follows me thro… The smoke of incense Mounts from the four horns of my b… The water-jet of gold light bears…
A dainty thing’s the Villanelle. Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme, It serves its purpose passing well… A doublc-clappered silver bell That must be made to clink in chim…
I am a grave poetic hen That lays poetic eggs And to enhance my temperament A little quiet begs. We make the yolk philosophy,
DIFFERENCE OF OPINION W… LYGDAMUS Tell me the truths which you hear… Lygdamus, And may the bought yoke of a mistr…
BE in me as the eternal moods of the bleak wind, and not As transient things are— gaiety of flowers. Have me in the strong loneliness
Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi
There is no land like England Where banks rise day by day, There are no banks like English b… To make the people pay. There is no such land of castles
Rest me with Chinese colours, For I think the glass is evil. The wind moves above the wheat– With a silver crashing, A thin war of metal.
Cydonian Spring with her attendan… Maelids and water-girls, Stepping beneath a boisterous wind… Throughout this sylvan place Spreads the bright tips,
The narrow streets cut into the wi… Dark oxen, white horses, drag on the seven coaches with out… The coaches are perfumed wood, The jewelled chair is held up at t…
Thou keep’st thy rose-leaf Till the rose-time will be over, Think’st thou that Death will kis… Think’st thou that the Dark House Will find thee such a lover
The scientists are in terror and the European mind stops Wynham Lewis chose blindness rather than have his mind stop. Night under wind mid garofani,
Lo, how it gleams and glistens in… Like the cheek of a Chesterton.