I lived from 1906-1936. I was from the USA, and am in the Americas category.
I have lived in the Southwest all my life, yet most of my dreams are laid in cold, giant lands of icy wastes and gloomy skies, and of wild, wind-swept fens and wilderness over which sweep great sea-winds, and which are inhabited by shock-headed savages with light fierce eyes. With the exception of one dream, I am never, in these dreams of ancient times, a civilized man. Always am I the barbarian, the skin-clad, tousle-haired, light-eyed wild man, armed with a rude ax or sword, fighting the elements and wild beasts, or grappling with armored hosts marching with the tread of civilized discipline, from fallow fruitful lands and walled cities. This is reflected in my writings, too, for when I begin a tale of old times, I always find myself instinctively arrayed on the side of the barbarian, against the powers of organized civilization.
My poetry
- All fled--all done, so lift me on the pyre;
The feast is over, and the lamps expire.2 lines, 9 comments - Riding down the road at evening with the stars or steed and shoon
I have heard an old man singing underneath a copper moon;19 lines, 10 comments - I died in sin and forthwith went to Hell;
I made myself at home upon the coals14 lines, 1 comment - There came to me a Man one summer night,
When all the world lay silent in the stars,14 lines, 1 comment - I have not heard lutes beckon me, nor the brazen bugles call,
But once in the dim of a haunted lea I heard the silence fall.28 lines, 2 comments - "Nay, have no fear. The man was blind," said she.
"How could he see ’twas we that took his gold?14 lines, 1 comment
