#Americans
To So-Kin of Rakuyo, ancient fri… Gen. Now I remember that you built me… By the south side of the bridge at… With yellow gold and white jewels,…
Three spirits came to me And drew me apart To where the olive boughs Lay stripped upon the ground: Pale carnage beneath bright mist.
Her grave, sweet haughtiness Pleaseth me, and in like wise Her quiet ironies. Others are beautiful, none more, s… I suppose, when poetry comes down…
Let us deride the smugness of 'Th… So much for the gagged reviewers, It will pay them when the worms ar… vitals; These are they who objected to new…
O My songs, Why do you look so eagerly and so… people’s faces, Will you find your lost dead among…
Her little face is like a walnut s… With wrinkling lines; her soft, wh… Her withered brows in quaint, stra… And all about her clings an old, s… Prim is her gown and quakerlike he…
By the North Gate, the wind blows… Lonely from the beginning of time… Trees fall, the grass goes yellow… I climb the towers and towers to watch out the barbarous land:
Phyllidula and the Spoils of Gouv… Where, Lady, are the days When you could go out in a hired h… Without footmen and equipments? And dine in a soggy, cheap restaur…
I stood still and was a tree amid… Knowing the truth of things unseen… Of Daphne and the laurel bow And that god—feasting couple old that grew elm—oak amid the wold.
When I am old I will not have you look apart From me, into the cold, Friend of my heart, Nor be sad in your remembrance
The Dai horse neighs against the… The birds of Etsu have no love fo… Emotion is born out of habit. Yesterday we went out of the Wild… To-day from the Dragon-Pen.
Go, my songs, to the lonely and th… Go also to the nerve-racked, go to… Bear to them my contempt for their… Go as a great wave of cool water, Bear my contempt of oppressors.
(Abbreviated from the conversation… Over the flat slope of St Eloi A wide wall of sandbags. Night, In the silence desultory men
At the table beyond us With her little suede slippers off… With her white-stocking’d feet Carefully kept from the floor by a… She converses:
I am a grave poetic hen That lays poetic eggs And to enhance my temperament A little quiet begs. We make the yolk philosophy,
