#AmericanWriters
An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…
Among of green stiff old
This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream
A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.
The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow
When trouble comes your soul to tr… You love the friend who just “stan… Perhaps there’s nothing he can do’ The thing is strictly up to you; For there are troubles all your ow…
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
Oh, black Persian cat! Was not your life already cursed with offspring? We took you for rest to that old Yankee farm, —so lonely
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of
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…
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was