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AmLit2 Ultimate (1).pdf - Ezra Weston Loomis Pound Paganis,...

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Ezra Weston Loomis PoundPagani’s, November 8L’art, 1910A RetrospectIn A Station of the MetroAlbaDoriaThe Jewel Stairs’ GrievanceA GirlThe Tea ShopWilliam Carlos WilliamsThe Red WheelbarrowYoung SycamorePortrait of a LadyLandscape with the Fall of IcarusBy the road to the contagioushospitalThe Great FigureThe RoseAmy LowellA DecadeRobert Lee FrostAfter Apple-pickingMending WallThe Road Not TakenThomas Stearns EliotThe Waste LandThe Love Song of J. AlfredPrufrockWallace StevensIdea of Order at Key WestHilda DoolittleOreadOrchardEurydiceJames Mercer Langston HughesI, TooThe Negro Speaks of RiversCharles OlsonProjective VerseVariations Done for Gerald Van DeWieleRobert DuncanStructure of Rhyme, XIOften I am Permitted to Return to aMeadowRobert CreeleyI Know a ManMountains in the DesertDenise LevertovBeyond the EndThe Jacob’s LadderStepping WestwardIllustrious AncestorsWoman AloneErnest Miller HemingwayThe Sun Also RisesThe Snows of KilimanjaroFrancis Scott Key FitzgeraldThe Great GatsbyWilliam Cuthbert FaulknerThe Sound and the FuryA Rose for EmilyDjuna BarnesNightwoodZora Neale HurstonTheir Eyes Were Watching GodNella LarsenPassingEugene Gladstone O’NeillLong Day’s Journey into NightThomas Lanier Tennessee WilliamsA Streetcar Named DesireArthur Asher MillerDeath of a SalesmanEdward Franklin AlbeeWho’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?Mary Flannery O’ConnorA Good Man is Hard to FindJerome David SalingerThe Catcher in the RyeThomas PynchonEntropyAlice WalkerThe Color PurpleMaxine Hong KingstonThe Woman Warrior
AppendixPoemsIN A STATION OF THE METROThe apparition of these faces in the crowd;Petals on a wet, black bough.L’ARTGreen arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth,Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.ALBAAs cool as the pale wet leavesTof lily-of-the-valleyShe lay beside me in the dawn.DORIABe in me as the eternal moodsof the bleak wind, and notAs transient things are--gaiety of flowers.Have me in the strong lonelinessof sunless cliffsAnd of grey waters.Let the gods speak softly of usIn days hereafter,The shadowy flowers of OrcusRemember thee.THE JEWEL STAIRS' GRIEVANCEThe 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 curtainAnd watch the moon through the clear autumn.A GIRLThe 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 8Suddenly discovering in the eyes of the very beautifulNormande cocotteThe eyes of the very learned British Museum assistant.

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Term
Summer
Professor
Atty. Lozano Brozas
Tags
brown hair, jug jug jug

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