#AmericanWriters
OH to be free of myself, With nothing left to remember, To have my heart as bare As a tree in December; Resting, as a tree rests
I am alone, in spite of love, In spite of all I take and give’… In spite of all your tenderness, Sometimes I am not glad to live. I am alone, as though I stood
I KNOW the stars by their names, Aldebaran, Altair, And I know the path they take Up heaven’s broad blue stair. I know the secrets of men
I have no riches but my thoughts, Yet these are wealth enough for me… My thoughts of you are golden coin… Stamped in the mint of memory; And I must spend them all in song…
It is not a word spoken, Few words are said; Nor even a look of the eyes Nor a bend of the head, But only a hush of the heart
With the man I love who loves me… I walked in the street-lamps’ flar… We watched the world go home that… In a flood through Union Square. I leaned to catch the words he sai…
Oh chimes set high on the sunny to… Ring on, ring on unendingly, Make all the hours a single hour, For when the dusk begins to flower… The man I love will come to me! .…
The moon is like a scimitar, A little silver scimitar, A-drifting down the sky. And near beside it is a star, A timid twinkling golden star,
Lyric night of the lingering Indi… Shadowy fields that are scentless… Never a bird, but the passionless… Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper’s horn, and far-of…
When Love was born I think he lay Right warm on Venus’ breast, And whiles he smiled and whiles wo… And whiles would take his rest. But always, folded out of sight,
I shall bury my weary Love Beneath a tree, In the forest tall and black Where none can see. I shall put no flowers at his head…
Brown Thrush singing all day long In the leaves above me, Take my love this little song, “Love me, love me, love me!” When he harkens what you say,
Your face is set against a fervent… Before the thirsty hills that seve… Return the sun’s hot glory, gold o… Where Agamemnon and Cassandra lie… Your eyes are blind whose light sh…
Only in sleep I see their faces, Children I played with when I was… Louise comes back with her brown h… Annie with ringlets warm and wild. Only in sleep Time is forgotten—
Fields beneath a quilt of snow From which the rocks and stubble s… And in the west a shy white star That shivers as it wakes from deep… The restless rumble of the train,