(1923)
#AmericanWriters
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor
It is still warm enough to slip from the weeds into the lake’s edge, your clothes blushing in the grass and three small boys grinning behind the derelict hearth’s side. But summer...
Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion 'tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields
Ecstatic bird songs pound the hollow vastness of the sky with metallic clinkings— beating color up into it at a far edge,—beating it, beating…