Anthology of Magazine VerseWilliam Stanley Braithwaite Schulte Publishing Company, 1918 Volume for 1958 includes "Anthology of poems from the seventeen previously published Braithwaite anthologies." |
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Amelia Josephine Burr American Anthology April August beauty Bellman bird blue Book Bookman Born Boston Tran Boston Transcript Catholic World Century Magazine Collier's Weekly Contemporary Verse dancing dead death December Dial dreams earth educated Edward Edwin Ford Piper English Everybody's Magazine eyes February flowers France Francis Carlin George Graphic Harper's Magazine heart Housekeeping January John Lane July June Liberator Louis Lyric Magazine of Verse March Mary Middle West Midland moon night November Number October Outlook panion Parisienne Patience Worth's Magazine People's Home Journal Poems poet Poetry Journal PRAYER Reedy's Mirror Richmond Evening Journal Robert rose Sara Teasdale Scribner's Magazine September shadows sing Smart Set SONG Sonnet soul Spring stars Stratford Journal sweet thou tree wild William William Rose Benét wind Yale Review York City young Youth's Companion zine of Verse
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Strana 143 - In that day sing ye unto her, A vineyard of red wine. I the Lord do keep it ; I will water it every moment: Lest any hurt it, I will keep it night and day.
Strana 54 - BLUE SQUILLS How many million Aprils came Before I ever knew How white a cherry bough could be, A bed of squills how blue — And many a dancing April, When life is done with me, Will lift the blue flame of the flower And the white flame of the tree. Oh, burn me with your beauty then — Oh, hurt me, tree and flower, Lest in the end death try to take Even this glistening hour. O shaken flowers, O shimmering trees, O sunlit white and blue, Wound me, that I through endless sleep May bear the scar of...
Strana 68 - THE HARLEM DANCER Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway; Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes Blown by black players upon a picnic day.
Strana 69 - Where are you?" But there is only the oak tree rustling in the wind. The house is very quiet, The sun shines in on your books, On your scissors and thimble just put down, But you are not there. Suddenly I am lonely: Where are you? I go about searching. Then I see you, Standing under a spire of pale blue larkspur, With a basket of roses on your arm. You are cool, like silver, And you smile. I think the Canterbury bells are playing little tunes. You tell me that the peonies need spraying, That the...
Strana 153 - EXIT GOD Of old our fathers' God was real, Something they almost saw, Which kept them to a stern ideal And scourged them into awe. They walked the narrow path of right, Most vigilantly well, Because they feared eternal night And boiling depths of Hell. Now Hell has wholly boiled away And God become a shade.' There is no place for him to stay In all the world he made. The followers of William James Still let the Lord exist, And call him by imposing names, A venerable list. But nerve and muscle only...
Strana 90 - The (Mould NO doubt this active will, So bravely steeped in sun. This will has vanquished Death And foiled oblivion. But this indifferent clay, This fine, experienced hand So quiet, and these thoughts That all unfinished stand, Feel death as though it were A shadowy caress ; And win and wear a frail Archaic wistfulness.
Strana 52 - FREE FANTASIA ON JAPANESE THEMES All the afternoon there has been a chirping of birds, And the sun lies warm and still on the western sides of swollen branches, There is no wind; Even the little twigs at the ends of the branches do not move, And the needles of the pines are solid Bands of inarticulated blackness Against the blue-white sky, Still, but alert; And my heart is still and alert, Passive with sunshine, Avid of adventure. I would experience new emotions, Submit to strange enchantments, Bend...
Strana 68 - To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm Grown lovelier for passing through a storm. Upon her swarthy neck black shiny curls Luxuriant fell ; and tossing coins in praise, The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls, Devoured her shape with eager, passionate gaze; But looking at her falsely-smiling face, I knew her self was not in that strange place.
Strana 160 - DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES They say that dead men tell no tales! Except of barges with red sails, And sailors mad for nightingales; Except of jongleurs stretched at ease Beside old highways through the trees; Except of dying moons that break The hearts of lads who lie awake; Except of fortresses in shade, And heroes crumbled and betrayed. But dead men tell nu tales, they say!
Strana 53 - Should flash with gold circular threads, And glitter when I moved. I would lean against the railing While you sang to me of wars Past and to come — Sang, and played the samisen. Perhaps I would beat a little hand drum In time to your singing; Perhaps I would only watch the play of light Upon the hilt of your two swords.