#AmericanWriters
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
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.
You know there is not much that I desire, a few chrysanthemum… half lying on the grass, yellow and brown and white, the talk of a few people, the trees,
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
The birches are mad with green poi… the wood’s edge is burning with th… burning, seething—No, no, no. The birches are opening their leav… by one. Their delicate leaves unfo…
beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and
Well, Lizzie Anderson! seventeen… the baby hard to find a father for… What will the good Father in Heav… to the local judge if he do not so… A little two-pointed smile and—pou…
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.
Men with picked voices chant the n… of cities in a huge gallery: promi… that pull through descending stair… to a deep rumbling. The rubbing feet
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
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…
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter