THE GRAVE of Alexander Hamilt… The grave of Robert Fulton likewi… And in this yard stenogs, bundle b… An iron picket fence... and stream… ... easy is the sleep of Alexander…

FIVE circus clowns dying this year, morning newspapers told their lives, how each one horizontal in a last gesture of hands arranged by an undertaker, shook thousands into convulsions o...

‘The past is a bucket of ashes.’ THE WOMAN named To-morrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time and does her hair the way she want…

A SWIRL in the air where your h… You walked under this tree, spoke… I might almost stand here and beli…

WALKED among the streets of an old city and the streets were lean as the throats of hard seafish soaked in salt and kept in barrels many years. How old, how old, how old, we are:—the...

REMEMBRANCE for a great man i… The newsies are pitching pennies. And on the copper disk is the man’… Dead lover of boys, what do you as…

DOWN between the walls of shadow Where the iron laws insist, The hunger voices mock. The worn wayfaring men With the hunched and humble should…

MOMUS is the name men give your… The brag of its tone, like a long… Finding a way mid mist on a shorel… Where gray rocks let the salt wate… Against horizons purple, silent.

WHAT can we say of the night? The fog night, the moon night, the… There swept out of the sea a song. There swept out of the sea-torn wh… There came on the coast wind drive

GRIEG being dead we may speak of… Grieg being dead we can talk about… Grieg being with Ibsen, Björnson… Grieg being dead does not care a h… Morning, Spring, Anitra’s Dance,

NAPOLEON shifted, Restless in the old sarcophagus And murmured to a watchguard: “Who goes there?” “Twenty-one million men,

LET me be monosyllabic to-day, O… Yesterday I loosed a snarl of wor… on a child. To-day, let me be monosyllabic … a… who wash sunlight in their fingers…

Alike only as a yellow cat and a green parrot are alike, (Maybe this is a jabber too—are we at it again, you and I?) One thing there is much of; the name men call it by is time; int...

DAYS of the dead men, Danny. Drum for the dead, drum on your remembering heart. Jaurès, a great love-heart of Fra… a slug of lead in the red valves.