#AmericanWriters
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
I’ve fond anticipation of a day O’erfilled with pure diversion pre… For I must read a lady poesy The while we glide by many a leafy… Hid deep in rushes, where at rando…
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
When over the flowery, sharp pastu… edge, unseen, the salt ocean lifts its form—chicory and daisies tied, released, seem hardly flower… but color and the movement—or the…
What have I to say to you When we shall meet? Yet— I lie here thinking of you. The stain of love
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,
The grass is very green, my friend… and tousled, like the head of —— your grandson, yes? And the mounta… the mountain we climbed twenty years since for the last