#AmericanWriters
What can I give you, my lord, my… You who have given the world to me… Showed me the light and the joy th… The wild sweet earth and the restl… All that I have are gifts of your…
Oh day of fire and sun, Pure as a naked flame, Blue sea, blue sky and dun Sands where he spoke my name; Laughter and hearts so high
I hoped that he would love me, And he has kissed my mouth, But I am like a stricken bird That cannot reach the south. For though I know he loves me,
Heaven-invading hills are drowned In wide moving waves of mist, Phlox before my door are wound In dripping wreaths of amethyst. Ten feet away the solid earth
I am not sorry for my soul That it must go unsatisfied, For it can live a thousand times, Eternity is deep and wide. I am not sorry for my soul,
When April bends above me And finds me fast asleep Dust need not keep the secret A live heart died to keep. When April tells the thrushes,
Dreamily over the roofs The cold spring rain is falling, Out in the lonely tree A bird is calling, calling. Slowly over the earth
I built a little House of Dreams, And fenced it all about, But still I heard the Wind of Tr… That roared without. I laid a fire of Memories
Here in the velvet stillness The wide sown fields fall to the f… Sleeping in starlight. . . . A year ago we walked in the jangli… Together . . . . forgetful.
“She can’t be unhappy,” you said, “The smiles are like stars in her… And her laughter is thistledown Around her low replies.” “Is she unhappy?” you said—
The wind is tossing the lilacs, The new leaves laugh in the sun, And the petals fall on the orchard… But for me the spring is done. Beneath the apple blossoms
I said, “I have shut my heart As one shuts an open door, That Love may starve therein And trouble me no more.” But over the roofs there came
They sent you in to say farewell t… No, do not shake your head; I see… That shine with tears. Sappho, yo… Just now when you came hither, and… When you have left me, all the shi…
Her voice is like clear water That drips upon a stone In forests far and silent Where Quiet plays alone. Her thoughts are like the lotus
Oh you are coming, coming, coming, How will hungry Time put by the h… But why does it anger my heart to… For one man out of the world of me… Oh I would live in myself only