7 ~ THE COMMONWEAL May18, I932 awareness of folk-spirit is the question of form. Individualistic art dissolves forms, eventually discards them entirely, but is unable to replace them; but...
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Invocation to Vergil Gently as in your time Still falls on Umbrian hills the evening sunlight, Before the gleaming bronze on fig and pear Deepens to brown-purple; And still at Paestum sighs...
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Green Crocus Spears Green crocus spears, With your keen little shining blades you pierce my grieving Suddenly, like a high, sweet violin, Among sombre horns and harps and mourning strings...
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July 25, 1928 THE COMMONWEAL POEMS £anta Doucelina Sweet saint whose blessed eyes did see The peach turn rosy on the tree, Ripe moons of apricots appear Through cloudy green, Or skins of...
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At dusk the moths come to my garden, silent as thoughts: This is the gray hour when little hidden spirits Take form and wing. Breathe lightly—they come! Cecropia, Luna, Tiger, and...
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