#1913 #ABoy'sWill #AmericanWriters
YOU come to fetch me from my work… When supper’s on the table, and we… If I can leave off burying the wh… Soft petals fallen from the apple… (Soft petals, yes, but not so barr…
To start the world of old We had one age of gold Not labored out of mines, And some say there are signs The second such has come,
Out alone in the winter rain, Intent on giving and taking pain. But never was I far out of sight Of a certain upper-window light. The light was what it was all abou…
As I have known them passionate a… The gold for which they leave the… Of lyric is a golden light divine, Never the gold of darkness from a… The spirit plays us strange religi…
There were three in the meadow by… Gathering up windrows, piling hayc… With an eye always lifted toward t… Where an irregular, sun-bordered c… Darkly advanced with a perpetual d…
When a friend calls to me from the… And slows his horse to a meaning w… I don’t stand still and look aroun… On all the hills I haven’t hoed, And shout from where I am, What i…
There were three in the meadow by… Gathering up windrows, piling cock… With an eye always lifted toward t… Where an irregular sun—bordered cl… Darkly advanced with a perpetual d…
Roll stones down on our head! You squat old pyramid, Your last good avalanche Was long since slid. Your top has sunk too low,
The soil now gets a rumpling soft… And small regard to the future of… The final flat of the hoe’s approv… Is reserved for the bed of a few s… There is seldom more than a man to…
The line—storm clouds fly tattered… The road is forlorn all day, Where a myriad snowy quartz stones… And the hoof—prints vanish away. The roadside flowers, too wet for…
The mountain held the town as in a… I saw so much before I slept ther… I noticed that I missed stars in… Where its black body cut into the… Near me it seemed: I felt it like…
The bear puts both arms around the… And draws it down as if it were a… And its choke cherries lips to kis… Then lets it snap back upright in… Her next step rocks a boulder on t…
Having a wheel and four legs of it… Has never availed the cumbersome g… To get it anywhere that I can see… These hands have helped it go, and… Not all the motion, though, they e…
The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hil… The graveyard draws the living sti… But never anymore the dead. The verses in it say and say:
‘Fred, where is north?’ ‘North? North is there, my love. The brook runs west.’ ‘West—running Brook then call it.… (West—Running Brook men call it t…