#AmericanWriters
14 One Sister have I in our house, And one, a hedge away. There’s only one recorded, But both belong to me.
883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light
767 To offer brave assistance To Lives that stand alone— When One has failed to stop them— Is Human—but Divine
410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—
567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame—
224 I've nothing else—to bring, You k… So I keep bringing These— Just as the Night keeps fetching… To our familiar eyes—
689 The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorous— We learned to like the Fire By playing Glaciers—when a Boy— And Tinder—guessed—by power
479 She dealt her pretty words like B… How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone—
A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass…
Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.
59 A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard—
982 No Other can reduce Our mortal Consequence Like the remembering it be nought A Period from hence
The Hills in Purple syllables The Day’s Adventures tell To little Groups of Continents Just going Home from School.
The Notice that is called the Spr… Is but a month from here - Put up my Heart thy Hoary work And take a Rosy Chair. Not any House the Flowers keep -
543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—