#AmericanWriters
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,
The dearest child in all the world… Should have the dearest songs, And that is why this little book To David-Boy belongs.
I sang a song at dusking time Beneath the evening star, And Terence left his latest rhyme To answer from afar. Pierrot laid down his lute to weep…
I said, “I will take my life And throw it away; I who was fire and song Will turn to clay.” “I will lie no more in the night
When I go back to earth And all my joyous body Puts off the red and white That once had been so proud, If men should pass above
She is too kind, I think, for mor… Too gentle for the gusty ways of e… God gave to her a shy and silver m… And made her soul as clear And softly singing as an orchard s…
SO long as my spirit still Is glad of breath And lifts its plumes of pride In the dark face of death; While I am curious still
ARCTURUS brings the spring bac… As surely now as when He rose on eastern islands For Grecian girls and men; The twilight is as clear a blue,
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…
The sparrows wake beneath the conv… I think I have not slept the whol… But I am old; the aged scarcely k… The times they wake and sleep, for… They breathe the calm of death bef…
In the spring I asked the daisies If his words were true, And the clever, clear-eyed daisies Always knew. Now the fields are brown and barre…
A thousand miles beyond this sun-s… Somewhere the waves creep cool alo… The ebbing tide forsakes the listl… With the old murmur, long and musi… The windy waves mount up and curve…
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,
I was a queen, and I have lost my… A wife, and I have broken all my… A lover, and I ruined him I loved… There is no other havoc left to do… A little month ago I was a queen,
My soul is a dark ploughed field In the cold rain; My soul is a broken field Ploughed by pain. Where grass and bending flowers