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- I'VE fond anticipation of a day
- O'erfilled with pure diversion presently,
- For I must read a lady poesy
- The while we glide by many a leafy bay,
- Hid deep in rushes, where at random play
- The glossy black winged May-flies, or whence flee
- Hush-throated nestlings in alarm,
- Whom we have idly frighted with our boat's long sway.
- For, lest o'ersaddened by such woes as spring
- To rural peace from our meek onward trend,
- What else more fit? We'll draw the latch-string
- And close the door of sense; then satiate wend,
- On poesy's transforming giant wing,
- To worlds afar whose fruits all anguish mend.
- William Carlos Williams

- THEY tell me on the morrow I must leave
- This winter eyrie for a southern flight
- And truth to tell I tremble with delight
- At thought of such unheralded reprieve.
- E'er have I known December in a weave
- Of blanched crystal, when, thrice one short night
- Packed full with magic, and O blissful sight!
- N'er May so warmly doth for April grieve.
- To in a breath's space wish the winter through
- And lo, to see it fading! Where, oh, where
- Is caract could endow this princely boon?
- Yet I have found it and shall shortly view
- The lush high grasses, shortly see in air
- Gay birds and hear the bees make heavy droon.
- William Carlos Williams

- THE Archer is wake!
- The Swan is flying!
- Gold against blue
- An Arrow is lying.
- There is hunting in heaven--
- Sleep safe till tomorrow.
- The Bears are abroad!
- The Eagle is screaming!
- Gold against blue
- Their eyes are gleaming!
- Sleep!
- Sleep safe till tomorrow.
- The Sisters lie
- With their arms intertwining;
- Gold against blue
- Their hair is shining!
- The Serpent writhes!
- Orion is listening!
- Gold against blue
- His sword is glistening!
- Sleep!
- There is hunting in heaven--
- Sleep safe till tomorrow.
- William Carlos Williams

- LADY of dusk-wood fastnesses,
- Thou art my Lady.
- I have known the crisp, splintering leaf-tread with thee on before,
- White, slender through green saplings;
- I have lain by thee on the brown forest floor
- Beside thee, my Lady.
- Lady of rivers strewn with stones,
- Only thou art my Lady.
- Where thousand the freshets are crowded like peasants to a fair;
- Clear-skinned, wild from seclusion
- They jostle white-armed down the tent-bordered thoroughfare
- Praising my Lady.
- William Carlos Williams

- THE coroner's merry little children
- Have such twinkling brown eyes.
- Their father is not of gay men
- And their mother jocular in no wise,
- Yet the coroner's merry little children
- Laugh so easily.
- They laugh because they prosper.
- Fruit for them is upon all branches.
- Lo! how they jibe at loss, for
- Kind heaven fills their little paunches!
- It's the coroner's merry, merry children
- Who laugh so easily.
- William Carlos Williams

- THERE is a bird in the poplars!
- It is the sun!
- The leaves are little yellow fish
- swimming in the river.
- The bird skims above them,
- day is on his wings.
- Phoebus!
- It is he that is making
- the great gleam among the poplars!
- It is his singing
- outshines the noise
- of leaves clashing in the wind.
- William Carlos Williams

- THE little sparrows
- hop ingenuously
- about the pavement
- quarreling
- with sharp voices
- over those things
- that interest them.
- But we who are wiser
- shut ourselves in
- on either hand
- and no one knows
- whether we think good
- or evil.
- Meanwhile,
- the old man who goes about
- gathering dog-lime
- walks in the gutter
- without looking up
- and his tread
- is more majestic than
- that of the Episcopal minister
- approaching the pulpit
- of a Sunday.
- These things
- astonish me beyond words.
- William Carlos Williams

- YOU sullen pig of a man
- you force me into the mud
- with your stinking ash-cart!
- Brother!
- --if we were rich
- we'd stick our chests out
- and hold our heads high!
- It is dreams that have destroyed us.
- There is no more pride
- in horses or in rein holding.
- We sit hunched together brooding
- our fate.
- Well--
- all things turn bitter in the end
- whether you choose the right or
- the left way
- and--
- dreams are not a bad thing.
- William Carlos Williams

- SWEEP the house clean,
- hang fresh curtains
- in the windows
- put on a new dress
- and come with me!
- The elm is scattering
- its little loaves
- of sweet smells
- from a white sky!
- Who shall hear of us
- in the time to come?
- Let him say there was
- a burst of fragrance
- from black branches.
- William Carlos Williams

- ECSTATIC bird songs pound
- the hollow vastness of the sky
- with metallic clinkings--
- beating color up into it
- at a far edge,--beating it, beating it
- with rising, triumphant ardor,--
- stirring it into warmth,
- quickening in it a spreading change,--
- bursting wildly against it as
- dividing the horizon, a heavy sun
- lifts himself--is lifted--
- bit by bit above the edge
- of things,--runs free at last
- out into the open--!lumbering
- glorified in full release upward--
- songs cease.
- William Carlos Williams

- OH strong-ridged and deeply hollowed
- nose of mine! what will you not be smelling?
- What tactless asses we are, you and I, boney nose,
- always indiscriminate, always unashamed,
- and now it is the souring flowers of the bedreggled
- poplars: a festering pulp on the wet earth
- beneath them. With what deep thirst
- we quicken our desires
- to that rank odor of a passing springtime!
- Can you not be decent? Can you not reserve your ardors
- for something less unlovely? What girl will care
- for us, do you think, if we continue in these ways?
- Must you taste everything? Must you know everything?
- Must you have a part in everything?
- William Carlos Williams

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