#AmericanWriters
Love, if I weep it will not matte… And if you laugh I shall not care… Foolish am I to think about it, But it is good to feel you there. Love, in my sleep I dreamed of wa…
It’s little I care what path I ta… And where it leads it’s little I… But out of this house, lest my hea… I must go, and off somewhere. It’s little I know what’s in my h…
Only until this cigarette is ended… A little moment at the end of all, While on the floor the quiet ashes… And in the firelight to a lance ex… Bizarrely with the jazzing music b…
“Inert Perfection, let me chip yo… You cannot break it through with t… What if you broke it never, and it… You should not issue thence, shoul… Perfection in the egg, a fluid thi…
Once from a big, big building, When I was small, small, The queer folk in the windows Would smile at me and call. And in the hard wee gardens
I shall go back again to the bleak… And build a little shanty on the s… In such a way that the extremest b… Of brittle seaweed shall escape my… But by a yard or two; and nevermor…
These wet rocks where the tide has… Barnacled white and weeded brown And slimed beneath to a beautiful… These wet rocks where the tide wen… Will show again when the tide is h…
I do but ask that you be always fa… That I forever may continue kind; Knowing me what I am, you should… To lapse from beauty ever, nor see… My alterable mood with lesser cord…
I am not resigned to the shutting… So it is, and so it will be, for s… Into the darkness they go, the wis… With lilies and with laurel they g… Lovers and thinkers, into the eart…
Once more into my arid days like d… Like wind from an oasis, or the so… Of cold sweet water bubbling under… A treacherous messenger, the thoug… Comes to destroy me; once more I…
I had a little Sorrow, Born of a little Sin, I found a room all damp with gloom And shut us all within; And, “Little Sorrow, weep,” said…
Not even my pride shall suffer muc… Not even my pride at all, maybe, If this ill-timed, intemperate clu… Be loosed by you and not by me, Will suffer; I have been so true
I know I might have lived in such… As to have suffered only pain: Loving not man nor dog; Not money, even; feeling Toothache perhaps, but never more…
Butterflies are white and blue In this field we wander through. Suffer me to take your hand. Death comes in a day or two. All the things we ever knew
For the sake of some things That be now no more I will strew rushes On my chamber-floor, I will plant bergamot