#AmericanWriters
XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.
412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—
699 The Judge is like the Owl— I’ve heard my Father tell— And Owls do build in Oaks— So here’s an Amber Sill—
786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—
323 As if I asked a common Alms, And in my wondering hand A Stranger pressed a Kingdom, And I, bewildered, stand—
As from the earth the light Ballo… Asks nothing but release - Ascension that for which it was, Its soaring Residence. The spirit looks upon the Dust
933 Two Travellers perishing in Snow The Forests as they froze Together heard them strengthening Each other with the words
10 My wheel is in the dark! I cannot see a spoke Yet know its dripping feet Go round and round.
XVII WHEN night is almost done, And sunrise grows so near That we can touch the spaces, It ’s time to smooth the hair
608 Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death—for who is He? The Porter of my Father’s Lodge As much abasheth me!
836 Truth — is as old as God — His Twin identity And will endure as long as He A Co-Eternity —
404 How many Flowers fail in Wood— Or perish from the Hill— Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful—
968 Fitter to see Him, I may be For the long Hindrance—Grace—to… With Summers, and with Winters, g… Some passing Year—A trait bestow
High from the earth I heard a bir… He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then he spied a breeze, And situated softly
25 She slept beneath a tree— Remembered but by me. I touched her Cradle mute— She recognized the foot—