William Carlos Williams Poems

A middle-northern March, now as always--
gusts from the South broken against cold winds--
but from under, as if a slow hand lifted a tide,
it moves--not into April--into a second March,
...

Go to sleep- though of course you will not-
to tideless waves thundering slantwise against
strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray
dashed thirty feet high, caught by the lake wind,
...

By the road to the contagious hospital
under the surge of the blue
mottled clouds driven from the
northeast -- a cold wind. Beyond, the
...

Of asphodel, that greeny flower,
like a buttercup
upon its branching stem-
save that it's green and wooden-
...

According to Brueghel
when Icarus fell
it was spring
...

I stopped the car
to let the children down
where the streets end
in the sun
...

the back wings
of the
...

I have had my dream- like others-
and it has come to nothing, so that
I remain now carelessly
with feet planted on the ground
...

If you had come away with me
into another state
we had been quiet together.
But there the sun coming up
...

They call me and I go.
It is a frozen road
past midnight, a dust
of snow caught
...