#AmericanWriters
I am afraid, oh I am so afraid! The cold black fear is clutching m… As long ago when they would take t… And leave the little child who wou… Frozen and sleepless at the though…
We stood in the shrill electric li… Dumb and sick in the whirling din We who had all of love to say And a single second to say it in. “Good-by!” “Good-by!”—you turned…
Heaven-invading hills are drowned In wide moving waves of mist, Phlox before my door are wound In dripping wreaths of amethyst. Ten feet away the solid earth
My soul lives in my body’s house, And you have both the house and he… But sometimes she is less your own Than a wild, gay adventurer; A restless and an eager wraith,
IF there is any life when death i… These tawny beaches will know much… I shall come back, as constant and… As the unchanging, many-colored se… If life was small, if it has made…
Oh Litis, little slave, why will… These long Egyptian noons bend do… Bowed like the yarrow with a yello… There, lift your eyes no man has e… Dark eyes that wait like faggots f…
I am free of love as a bird flying… Swift and intent, asking no joy fr… Glad to forget all of the passion… Ere it was love-free. I am free of love, and I listen t…
I came from the sunny valleys And sought for the open sea, For I thought in its gray expanse… My peace would come to me. I came at last to the ocean
The birds are all a-building, They say the world’s a-flower, And still I linger lonely Within a barren bower. I weave a web of fancies
SO long as my spirit still Is glad of breath And lifts its plumes of pride In the dark face of death; While I am curious still
To-night I close my eyes and see A strange procession passing me— The years before I saw your face Go by me with a wistful grace; They pass, the sensitive shy years…
I said, “My youth is gone Like a fire beaten out by the rain… That will never sway and sing Or play with the wind again.” I said, “It is no great sorrow
As kings, seeing their lives about… Take off the heavy ermine and the… So had the trees that autumn-time… Their golden garments on the dying… When I, who watched the seasons i…
As dew leaves the cobweb lightly Threaded with stars, Scattering jewels on the fence And the pasture bars; As dawn leaves the dry grass brigh…
I made a hundred little songs That told the joy and pain of love… And sang them blithely, tho’ I kn… No whit thereof. I was a weaver deaf and blind;