#AmericanWriters
The roofs are shining from the rai… The sparrows tritter as they fly, And with a windy April grace The little clouds go by. Yet the back-yards are bare and br…
Across the dimly lighted room The violin drew wefts of sound, Airily they wove and wound And glimmered gold against the glo… I watched the music turn to light,
It will not change now After so many years; Life has not broken it With parting or tears; Death will not alter it,
SINCE there is no escape, since… My body will be utterly destroyed, This hand I love as I have loved… This body I tended, wept with and… Since there is no escape even for…
I WATCH the great clear twiligh… Veiling the ice-bowed trees; Their branches tinkle faintly With crystal melodies. The larches bend their silver
MY heart is a garden tired with a… Heaped with bending asters and dah… In the hazy sunshine, the garden r… The drench of rains and a snow-dro… Daffodils blowing in the cold wind…
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 love too much; I am a river Surging with spring that seeks the… I am too generous a giver, Love will not stoop to drink of me… His feet will turn to desert place…
I saw a star slide down the sky, Blinding the north as it went by, Too burning and too quick to hold, Too lovely to be bought or sold, Good only to make wishes on
A wind is blowing over my soul, I hear it cry the whole night thro… Is there no peace for me on earth Except with you? Alas, the wind has made me wise,
My heart is heavy with many a song Like ripe fruit bearing down the t… But I can never give you one— My songs do not belong to me. Yet in the evening, in the dusk
The wide, bright temple of the wor… And entered from the dizzy infinit… That I might kneel and worship th… Leaving the singing stars their ce… Of silver music sound on orbed sou…
I am a pool in a peaceful place, I greet the great sky face to face… I know the stars and the stately m… And the wind that runs with rippli… But why does it always bring to me
The shining line of motors, The swaying motor-bus, The prancing dancing horses Are passing by for us. The sunlight on the steeple,
Your lines that linger for us down… Like sparks that tell the glory of… Still keep alight the splendor of… And living still, they sting us in… Sole perfect singer that the world…