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And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves or at best against treacherous
Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem– save that it’s green and wooden– I come, my sweet,
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which
I lie here thinking of you:—— the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves,
The coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…
Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:
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…
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
THERE is a bird in the poplars— It is the sun! The leaves are little yellow fish Swimming in the river; The bird skims above them—
This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream
I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of