#AmericanWriters
As dew leaves the cobweb lightly Threaded with stars, Scattering jewels on the fence And the pasture bars; As dawn leaves the dry grass brigh…
Strephon kissed me in the spring, Robin in the fall, But Colin only looked at me And never kissed at all. Strephon’s kiss was lost in jest,
Francesca’s life that was a limpid… Agleam against the shimmer of a sw… Which falling, quenched the flame… To free the house of Rimino from… Francesca’s death that blazed alof…
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—
Buildings above the leafless trees Loom high as castles in a dream, While one by one the lamps come ou… To thread the twilight with a glea… There is no sign of leaf or bud,
Pierrot stands in the garden Beneath a waning moon, And on his lute he fashions A little silver tune. Pierrot plays in the garden,
I wear a crown invisible and clear… And go my lifted royal way apart Since you have crowned me softly i… With love that is half ardent, hal… And as a queen disguised might pas…
They never saw my lover’s face, They only know our love was brief, Wearing awhile a windy grace And passing like an autumn leaf. They wonder why I do not weep,
Oh, there are eyes that he can see… And hands to make his hands rejoic… But to my lover I must be Only a voice. Oh, there are breasts to bear his…
We walked together in the dusk To watch the tower grow dimly whit… And saw it lift against the sky Its flower of amber light. You talked of half a hundred thing…
Peace flows into me As the tide to the pool by the sho… It is mine forevermore, It ebbs not back like the sea. I am the pool of blue
It will not change now After so many years; Life has not broken it With parting or tears; Death will not alter it,
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…
“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—
(To Eleonora Duse) We are anhungered after solitude, Deep stillness pure of any speech… Soft quiet hovering over pools pro… The silences that on the desert br…