#AmericanWriters
314 Nature—sometimes sears a Sapling— Sometimes—scalps a Tree— Her Green People recollect it When they do not die—
A Wind that rose Though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred But with itself did cold engage Beyond the Realm of Bird -
365 Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore
94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling&m da… Do the Buds to them belong?
193 I shall know why — when Time is o… And I have ceased to wonder why — Christ will explain each separate… In the fair schoolroom of the sky…
The Road was lit with Moon and st… The Trees were bright and still - Descried I - by the distant Ligh… A Traveller on a Hill - To magic Perpendiculars
509 If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive… At such and such a time—
721 Behind Me’—dips Eternity’— Before Me’—Immortality’— Myself’—the Term between’— Death but the Drift of Eastern G…
Image of Light, Adieu - Thanks for the interview - So long– so short – Preceptor of the whole - Coeval Cardinal -
Immured in Heaven! What a Cell! Let every Bondage be, Thou sweetest of the Universe, Like that which ravished thee!
92 My friend must be a Bird’— Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies!
149 She went as quiet as the Dew From an Accustomed flower. Not like the Dew, did she return At the Accustomed hour!
197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!
Lightly stepped a yellow star To its lofty place - Loosed the Moon her silver hat From her lustral Face - All of Evening softly lit
I know a place where summer strive… With such a practised frost, She each year leads her daisies ba… Recording briefly, ‘Lost.’ But when the south wind stirs the…