#AmericanWriters
[Written to the Most Beautiful… MAnd never have I been in love wi… Always aspiring to be set in tune With one who is invisible, inhuman… O laughing girl, cold TRUTH has…
(What Grandpa told the Childre… The moon? It is a griffin’s egg, Hatching to-morrow night. And how the little boys will watch With shouting and delight
He paid a Swede twelve bits an ho… Just to invent a fancy style To spread the celebration paint So it would show at least a mile. Some things they did I will not t…
Even the shrewd and bitter, Gnarled by the old world’s greed, Cherished the stranger softly Seeing his utter need. Shelter and patient hearing,
Your dust will be upon the wind Within some certain years, Though you be sealed in lead to-da… Amid the country’s tears. When this idyllic churchyard
AN ARGUMENT FOR THE MAINTENANCE OF PEACE AND GOODWILL WITH THE JAPANESE PEOPLE Glossary for the uninstructed and the hasty: Jimmu Tenno, ancestor of all the Japanese Emperors;...
It is portentous, and a thing of s… That here at midnight, in our litt… A mourning figure walks, and will… Near the old court-house pacing up… Or by his homestead, or in shadowe…
The moon’s a steaming chalice, Of honey and venom-wine. A little of it sipped by night Makes the long hours divine. But oh, my reckless lovers,
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.
(Being a Chant of the American… O market square, O slattern place… Is glory in your slack disgrace? Plump quack doctors sell their pil… Gentle grafters sell brass watches…
A curse upon each king who leads h… No matter what his plea, to this f… And may it end his wicked dynasty, And may he die in exile and black… If there is vengeance in the Heav…
(Note:—Pocahontas is buried at… “Pocahontas’ body, lovely as a pop… CARL SANDBURG. Powhatan was conqueror, Powhatan was emperor.
The Moon’s a snowball. See the… Of white that cross the sphere. The Moon’s a snowball, melted d… A dozen times a year. Yet rolled again in hot July
The wide Pacific waters And the Atlantic meet. With cries of joy they mingle, In tides of love they greet. Above the drowned ages
[How different people and differen… The Old Horse in the City The moon’s a peck of corn. It lie… Heaped up for me to eat. I wish that I might climb the pat…