#AmericanWriters
Oh, saucy gold circle of fairyland… Impudent, intimate, delicate treas… A noose for my heart and a ring fo… Here in my study you sing me a mea… Whimsy and song in my little gray…
A chant to which it is intended a… A master deep-eyed Ere his manhood was ripe, He sang like a thrush, He could play any pipe.
Too soon you wearied of our tears. And then you danced with spangled… Leading Belshazzar’s chattering c… A-tinkling through the shadowy str… With mead they came, with chants o…
The moon’s a little prairie-dog. He shivers through the night. He sits upon his hill and cries For fear that I will bite. The sun’s a broncho. He’s afraid
When I see a young tree In its white beginning, With white leaves And white buds Barely tipped with green,
An old actor at the Player’s Club told me that Edwin Booth first impersonated Hamlet when a barnstormer in California. There were few theatres, but the hotels were provided with crud...
The flower-fed buffaloes of the sp… In the days of long ago, Ranged where the locomotives sing And the prarie flowers lie low: The tossing, blooming, perfumed gr…
Where now the huts are empty, Where never a camp-fire glows, In an abandoned cañon, A Gambler’s Ghost arose. He muttered there, “The moon’s a…
The moon’s a gong, hung in the wil… Whose song the fays hold dear. Of course you do not hear it, chil… It takes a FAIRY ear. The full moon is a splendid gong
(To Edgar Lee Masters, with g… Here upon the prarie Is our ancestral hall. Agate is the dome, Cornelian the wall.
What the Carpenter Said The moon’s a cottage with a door. Some folks can see it plain. Look, you may catch a glint of lig… A sparkle through the pane,
Would I might rouse the Lincoln i… That which is gendered in the wild… From lonely prairies and God’s te… Imperial soul, star of a weedy str… Born where the ghosts of buffaloes…
‘There’s machinery in the butterfl… There’s a mainspring to the bee; There’s hydraulics to a daisy, And contraptions to a tree. ‘If we could see the birdie
A POEM DEDICATED T… Galahad . . . soldier that perishe… Our hearts are breaking with shame… Galahad . . . knight who perished… Teach us to fight for immaculate w…
“If I could set the moon upon This table,” said my friend, “Among the standard poets And brouchures without end, And noble prints of old Japan,