American Poetry 1922- Hokku on a Modern Theme Swans In Excelsis La Ronde du Diable Grindstone Fire and Ice Witch of Coös Die Küche Words for an Old Air Monolog from a Mattress Waters of Babylon Flaming Circle Portrait of a Machine Impromptu

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CONTENTS

AMY LOWELL
Lilacs
Twenty-four Hokku on a Modern Theme
The Swans
Prime
Vespers
In Excelsis
La Ronde du Diable

ROBERT FROST
Fire and Ice
The Grindstone
The Witch of Coös
A Brook in the City
Design

CARL SANDBURG
And So To-day
California City Landscape
Upstream
Windflower Leaf

VACHEL LINDSAY
In Praise of Johnny Appleseed
I Know All This When Gipsy Fiddles Cry

JAMES OPPENHEIM
Hebrews

ALFRED KREYMBORG
Adagio: A Duet
Die Küche
Rain
Peasant
Bubbles
Dirge
Colophon

SARA TEASDALE
Wisdom
Places
Twilight (Tucson)
Full Moon (Santa Barbara)
Winter Sun (Lenox)
Evening (Nahant)
Words for an Old Air
Those Who Love
Two Songs for Solitude
The Crystal Gazer
The Solitary

LOUIS UNTERMEYER
Monolog from a Mattress
Waters of Babylon
The Flaming Circle
Portrait of a Machine
Roast Leviathan

JOHN GOULD FLETCHER
A Rebel
The Rock
Blue Water
Prayers for Wind
Impromptu
Chinese Poet Among Barbarians
Snowy Mountains
The Future
Upon the Hill
The Enduring

JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER
Old Man
Tone Picture
They Say—
Rescue
Mater in Extremis
Self-Rejected

H. D.
Holy Satyr
Lais
Heliodora
Toward the Piræus

Slay with your eyes, Greek
You would have broken my wings
I loved you
What had you done
If I had been a boy
It was not chastity that made me cold
CONRAD AIKEN
Seven Twilights

The ragged pilgrim on the road to nowhere
Now by the wall of the ancient town
When the tree bares, the music of it changes [Pg x]
"This is the hour," she says, "of transmutation"
Now the great wheel of darkness and low clouds
Heaven, you say, will be a field in April
In the long silence of the sea
Tetélestai

EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
Eight Sonnets

When you, that at this moment are to me
What's this of death, from you who never will die
I know I am but summer to your heart
Here is a wound that never will heal, I know
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why
Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare
Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word!
Say what you will, and scratch my heart to find

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