#Americans #Imagist #Women #FreeVerse #Imagery
Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure
I should have thought in a dream you would have brought some lovely, perilous thing, orchids piled in a great sheath, as who would say (in a dream),
All Greece hates the still eyes in the white face, the lustre as of olives where she stands, and the white hands.
Hymen, O Hymen king, what bitter thing is this? what shaft, tearing my heart? what scar, what light, what fire searing my eye—balls and my eyes w…
O be swift— we have always known you wanted us… We fled inland with our flocks. we pastured them in hollows, cut off from the wind
Over and back, the long waves crawl and track the sand with foam; night darkens, and the sea takes on that desperate tone
From citron—bower be her bed, cut from branch of tree a—flower, fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, cut the width of board and lathe,
Silver dust lifted from the earth, higher than my arms reach, you have mounted. O silver,
Weed, moss—weed, root tangled in sand, sea—iris, brittle flower, one petal like a shell is broken,
Stars wheel in purple, yours is no… as Hesperus, nor yet so great a st… as bright Aldeboran or Sirius, nor yet the stained and brilliant… stars turn in purple, glorious to…
Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street,
I have had enough. I gasp for breath. Every way ends, every road, every foot-path leads at last to the hill-crest—
White, O white face— from disenchanted days wither alike dark rose and fiery bays: no gift within our hands,
Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear—head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song,
Rose, harsh rose, marred and with stint of petals, meagre flower, thin, sparse of leaf, more precious
