#AmericanWriters
130 These are the days when Birds com… A very few—a Bird or two— To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resu…
758 These’—saw Visions’— Latch them softly’— These’—held Dimples’— Smooth them slow’—
797 By my Window have I for Scenery Just a Sea—with a Stem— If the Bird and the Farmer—deem i… The Opinion will serve—for them—
835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.
1510 How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears—
Pain—has an Element of Blank— It cannot recollect When it begun—or if there were A time when it was not— It has no Future—but itself—
145 This heart that broke so long— These feet that never flagged— This faith that watched for star i… Give gently to the dead—
824 [first version] The Wind begun to knead the Grass… As Women do a Dough— He flung a Hand full at the Plain…
41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses
XXVIII I BRING an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching, next to min… And summon them to drink. Crackling with fever, they essay;
674 The Soul that hath a Guest Doth seldom go abroad— Diviner Crowd at Home— Obliterate the need—
Dying at my music! Bubble! Bubble! Hold me till the Octave’s run! Quick! Burst the Windows! Ritardando!
690 Victory comes late— And is held low to freezing lips— Too rapt with frost To take it—
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
325 Of Tribulation, these are They, Denoted by the White— The Spangled Gowns, a lesser Ran… Of Victors—designate—