Not for you was the pen bitten,
And the mind wrung, and the song written.
Similar Posts
Not even my pride shall suffer much;
If this ill-timed, intemperate clutchBe loosed by you and not by me,Will suffer; I have been so trueA vestal to that only prideWet wood cannot extinguish, norSand, nor its embers scattered, for,See all these years, it has not died.And if indeed, as I dare think,You cannot push this patient flame,By any breath your lungs could…
Only until this cigarette is ended,
While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,And in the firelight to a lance extended,Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,The broken shadow dances on the wall,I will permit my memory to recallThe vision of you, by all my dreams attended.And then adieu,—farewell!—the dream is done.Yours is a face of which I can forgetThe color and…
Strong sun, that bleach
Colourless this dress I wear?—This violent plaidOf purple angers and red shames; the yellow stripeOf thin but valid treacheries; the flashy green of kind deeds doneThrough indolence high judgments given here in haste;The recurring checker of the serious breach of taste?No more uncoloured than unmade,I fear, can be this garment that I may not doff;Confession…
How shall I know, unless I go
Whether or not this blessed spotIs blest in every way?Now it may be, the flower for meIs this beneath my nose:How shall I tell, unless I smellThe Carthaginian rose?The fabric of my faithful loveNo power shall dim or ravelWhilst I stay here,—but oh, my dear,If I should ever travel!
(Nicola Sacco — Bartolomeo Vanzetti)
IAs men have loved their lovers in times pastAnd sung their wit, their virtue and their grace,So have we loved sweet Justice to the last,That now lies here in an unseemly place.The child will quit the cradle and grow wiseAnd stare on beauty till his senses drown;Yet shall be seen no more by mortal eyesSuch…
Once more into my arid days like dew,
Of cold sweet water bubbling underground,A treacherous messenger, the thought of youComes to destroy me; once more I renewFirm faith in your abundance, whom I foundLong since to be but just one other moundOf sand, whereon no green thing ever grew.And once again, and wiser in no wise,I chase your colored phantom on the air,And…