I’d rather have him play a fiddle
Than rise and bow and speak an idyll.
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Because your eyes are slant and slow,
My heart is high again; but oh,I doubt if this will get me much.
When my eyes are weeds,
Down the wind that has beginningWhere the crumpled beeches startIn a fringe of salty reeds;When my arms are elder-bushes,And the rangy lilac pushesUpward, upward through my heart;Summer, do your worst!Light your tinsel moon, and call onYour performing stars to fall onHeadlong through your paper sky;Nevermore shall I be cursedBy a flushed and amorous slattern,With her…
Some men, some men
Book shop.(Lady, make your mind up, and wait your life away.)Some men, some menCannot pass aCrap game.(He said he’d come at moonrise, and here’s another day!)Some men, some menCannot pass aBar-room.(Wait about, and hang about, and that’s the way it goes.)Some men, some menCannot pass aWoman.(Heaven never send me another one of those!)Some men, some…
Dearest one, when I am dead
Never mount the quiet hillWhere the copper leaves are still,As my heart is, on the treeStanding at my narrow bed.Only of your tenderness,Pray a little prayer at night.Say: ‘I have forgiven now-I, so weak and sad; O Thou,Wreathed in thunder, robed in light,Surely Thou wilt do no less.’
In April, in April,
And I ran the slope of my high hillTo follow a thread of song.His eyes were hard as porphyryWith looking on cruel lands;His voice went slipping over meLike terrible silver hands.Together we trod the secret laneAnd walked the muttering town.I wore my heart like a wet, red stainOn the breast of a velvet gown.In April,…
Lady, if you’d slumber sound,
If you’d toss and turn at night,Slip your glances left and right.Would the mornings find you gay,Never give your heart away.Would they find you pale and sad,Fling it to a whistling lad.Ah, but when his pleadings burn,Will you let my words return?Will you lock your pretty lips,And deny your finger-tips,Veil away your tender eyes,Just because…