Ezra Weston Loomis Pound Pagani’s, November 8 L’art, 1910 A Retrospect In A Station of the Metro Alba Doria The Jewel Stairs’ Grievance A Girl The Tea Shop William Carlos Williams The Red Wheelbarrow Young Sycamore Portrait of a Lady Landscape with the Fall of Icarus By the road to the contagious hospital The Great Figure The Rose Amy Lowell A Decade Robert Lee Frost After Apple-picking Mending Wall The Road Not Taken Thomas Stearns Eliot The Waste Land The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock Wallace Stevens Idea of Order at Key West Hilda Doolittle Oread Orchard Eurydice James Mercer Langston Hughes I, Too The Negro Speaks of Rivers Charles Olson Projective Verse Variations Done for Gerald Van De Wiele Robert Duncan Structure of Rhyme, XI Often I am Permitted to Return to a Meadow Robert Creeley I Know a Man Mountains in the Desert Denise Levertov Beyond the End The Jacob’s Ladder Stepping Westward Illustrious Ancestors Woman Alone Ernest Miller Hemingway The Sun Also Rises The Snows of Kilimanjaro Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald The Great Gatsby William Cuthbert Faulkner The Sound and the Fury A Rose for Emily Djuna Barnes Nightwood Zora Neale Hurston Their Eyes Were Watching God Nella Larsen Passing Eugene Gladstone O’Neill Long Day’s Journey into Night Thomas Lanier Tennessee Williams A Streetcar Named Desire Arthur Asher Miller Death of a Salesman Edward Franklin Albee Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Mary Flannery O’Connor A Good Man is Hard to Find Jerome David Salinger The Catcher in the Rye Thomas Pynchon Entropy Alice Walker The Color Purple Maxine Hong Kingston The Woman Warrior
Appendix – Poems IN A STATION OF THE METRO The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. L’ART Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth, Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes. ALBA As cool as the pale wet leaves Tof lily-of-the-valley She lay beside me in the dawn. DORIA Be in me as the eternal moods of the bleak wind, and not As transient things are-- gaiety of flowers. Have me in the strong loneliness of sunless cliffs And of grey waters. Let the gods speak softly of us In days hereafter, The shadowy flowers of Orcus Remember thee. THE JEWEL STAIRS' GRIEVANCE The jewelled steps are already quite white with dew, It is so late that the dew soaks my gauze stockings, And I let down the crystal curtain And watch the moon through the clear autumn. A GIRL The tree has entered my hands, The sap has ascended my arms, The tree has grown in my breast - Downward, The branches grow out of me, like arms. Tree you are, Moss you are, You are violets with wind above them. A child - so high - you are, And all this is folly to the world.
PAGANI'S, NOVEMBER 8 Suddenly discovering in the eyes of the very beautiful Normande cocotte The eyes of the very learned British Museum assistant.
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