#AmericanWriters
The first rose on my rose-tree Budded, bloomed, and shattered, During sad days when to me Nothing mattered. Grief of grief has drained me clea…
To what purpose, April, do you re… Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with th… Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know.
Love is not all: it is not meat no… Nor slumber nor a roof against the… Nor yet a floating spar to men tha… And rise and sink and rise and sin… Love can not fill the thickened lu…
Make bright the arrows Gather the shields: Conquest narrows The peaceful fields. Stock well the quiver
Doubt no more that Oberon— Never doubt that Pan Lived, and played a reed, and ran After nymphs in a dark forest, In the merry, credulous days,—
Not even my pride shall suffer muc… Not even my pride at all, maybe, If this ill-timed, intemperate clu… Be loosed by you and not by me, Will suffer; I have been so true
Only until this cigarette is ended… A little moment at the end of all, While on the floor the quiet ashes… And in the firelight to a lance ex… Bizarrely with the jazzing music b…
Death devours all lovely things; Lesbia with her sparrow Shares the darkness,—presently Every bed is narrow. Unremembered as old rain
Give away her gowns, Give away her shoes; She has no more use For her fragrant gowns; Take them all down,
ALL right, Go ahead! What’s in a name? I guess I’ll be locked into As much as I’m locked out of!
VIII8. Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that… . Give back my book and take my kiss… .
Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that… Give me back my book and take my k… Was it my enemy or my friend I he… “What a big book for such a little… Come, I will show you now my newe…
Oh, come, my lad, or go, my lad, And love me if you like. I shall not hear the door shut Nor the knocker strike. Oh, bring me gifts or beg me gifts…
These wet rocks where the tide has… Barnacled white and weeded brown And slimed beneath to a beautiful… These wet rocks where the tide wen… Will show again when the tide is h…
Oh, lay my ashes on the wind That blows across the sea. And I shall meet a fisherman Out of Capri, And he will say, seeing me,