#AmericanWriters
Oh, when I flung my heart away, The year was at its fall. I saw my dear, the other day, Beside a flowering wall; And this was all I had to say:
Who was there had seen us Wouldn’t bid him run? Heavy lay between us All our sires had done. There he was, a-springing
Four be the things I am wiser to… Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a… Four be the things I’d been bette… Love, curiosity, freckles, and dou… Three be the things I shall never…
Her mind lives in a quiet room, A narrow room, and tall, With pretty lamps to quench the gl… And mottoes on the wall. There all the things are waxen nea…
They hail you as their morning sta… Because you are the way you are. If you return the sentiment, They’ll try to make you different; And once they have you, safe and s…
Chloe’s hair, no doubt, was bright… Lydia’s mouth more sweetly sad; Hebe’s arms were rather whiter; Languorous-lidded Helen had Eyes more blue than e’er the sky w…
Razors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren’t lawful;
The stars are soft as flowers, and… The hills are webs of shadow, slow… No separate leaf or single blade i… All blend to one. No moonbeam cuts the air; a sapphi…
The things she knew, let her forge… The voices in the sky, the fear, t… The gaping shepherds, and the quee… Piling their clumsy gifts of forei… Let her have laughter with her lit…
There was one a-riding grand On a tall brown mare, And a fine gold band He brought me there. A little, gold band
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…
They say of me, and so they should… It’s doubtful if I come to good. I see acquaintances and friends Accumulating dividends, And making enviable names
My own dear love, he is strong and… And he cares not what comes after. His words ring sweet as a chime of… And his eyes are lit with laughter… He is jubilant as a flag unfurled—
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…
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;