#AmericanWriters
56 If I should cease to bring a Rose Upon a festal day, ‘Twill be because beyond the Rose I have been called away—
978 It bloomed and dropt, a Single No… The Flower—distinct and Red— I, passing, thought another Noon Another in its stead
620 It makes no difference abroad— The Seasons—fit—the same— The Mornings blossom into Noons— And split their Pods of Flame—
XII I CANNOT live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
382 For Death—or rather For the Things 'twould buy— This—put away Life’s Opportunity—
97 The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by, Yet is she more convincing Than Philosophy.
898 How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom
331 While Asters— On the Hill— Their Everlasting fashions—set— And Covenant Gentians—Frill!
788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
The sky is low, the clouds are mea… A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day
841 A Moth the hue of this Haunts Candles in Brazil. Nature’s Experience would make Our Reddest Second pale.
415 Sunset at Night—is natural— But Sunset on the Dawn Reverses Nature—Master— So Midnight's—due—at Noon.
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
1035 Bee! I’m expecting you! Was saying Yesterday To Somebody you know That you were due—