#AmericanWriters
The family position was waning, And on this account the little Au… Who had laughed on eighteen summer… Now bears the palsied contact of…
I had been seen in the shade, recu… The water dripping from Belleroph… Alba, your kings, and the realm yo… have constructed with such industr… Shall be yawned out on my lyre wit…
When you wake in your crib, You, an inch of experience - Vaulted about With the wonder of darkness; Wailing and striving
Phyllidula and the Spoils of Gouv… Where, Lady, are the days When you could go out in a hired h… Without footmen and equipments? And dine in a soggy, cheap restaur…
«I am thy soul, Nikoptis. I have… These five millennia, and thy dead… Moved not, nor ever answer my desi… And thy light limbs, wherethrough… Burn not with me nor any saffron t…
The nightingale has a lyre of gold… The lark’s is a clarion-call, And the blackbird plays but a boxw… But I love him best of all. For his song is all of the joy of…
Staring corpselike at the ceiling, See his harsh, unrazored features, Ghastly brown against the pillow, And his throat-so strangely bandag… Lack of work and lack of victuals,
On the loan exhibit of his paintin… You also, our first great, Had tried all ways; Tested and pried and worked in man… And this much gives me heart to pl…
O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patr… Give me in due time, I beseech yo… With the little bright boxes piled up neatly upon the shelves And the loose fragrant cavendish
Her little face is like a walnut s… With wrinkling lines; her soft, wh… Her withered brows in quaint, stra… And all about her clings an old, s… Prim is her gown and quakerlike he…
SCENE: ‘En ce bourdel ou tenons… It being remembered that there wer… that expecting presently lo be han… ‘Freres humains qui apres nous viv… Drink ye a skoal for the gallows t…
Blue, blue is the grass about the… And the willows have overfilled th… And within, the mistress, in the m… White, white of face, hesitates, p… Slender, she puts forth a slender…
Come, let us pity those who are be… come, my friend, and remember that the rich have butlers and no… And we have friends and no butlers… Come, let us pity the married and…
FROM THE PROVENCAL O… Lady, since you care nothing for m… And since you have shut me away fr… Causelessly, I know not wnere to go seeking,
Her grave, sweet haughtiness Pleaseth me, and in like wise Her quiet ironies. Others are beautiful, none more, s… I suppose, when poetry comes down…