#AmericanWriters
VIII A wounded deer leaps highest, I ’ve heard the hunter tell; ’T is but the ecstasy of death, And then the brake is still.
410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—
569 I reckon—when I count it all— First—Poets—Then the Sun— Then Summer—Then the Heaven of G… And then—the List is done—
208 The Rose did caper on her cheek— Her Bodice rose and fell— Her pretty speech—like drunken men… Did stagger pitiful—
839 Always Mine! No more Vacation! Term of Light this Day begun! Failless as the fair rotation
If all the griefs I am to have Would only come today, I am so happy I believe They’d laugh and run away. If all the joys I am to have
703 Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird—reach it! Curve by Curve—Sweep by Sweep— Round the Steep Air—
236 If He dissolve – then – there is… Eclipse – at Midnight – It was dark – before – Sunset – at Easter –
990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—
Of all the souls that stand create I have elected one. When sense from spirit files away, And subterfuge is done; When that which is and that which…
A Sloop of Amber slips away Upon an Ether Sea, And wrecks in Peace a Purple Tar… The Son of Ecstasy -
742 Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre— Without Design Or Order, or Apparent Action— Maintain—
933 Two Travellers perishing in Snow The Forests as they froze Together heard them strengthening Each other with the words
1100 The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different
7 The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go— The Crocus—til she rises The Vassal of the snow—