#AmericanWriters
180 As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem— Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came
MY cocoon tightens, colors tease, I 'm feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be
263 Is all that pins the Soul That stands for Deity, to Mine, Upon my side the Veil— Once witnessed of the Gauze—
634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—
A Route of Evanescence With a revolving Wheel— A Resonance of Emerald— A Rush of Cochineal— And every Blossom on the Bush
597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering—
834 Before He comes we weigh the Time… ’Tis Heavy and ’tis Light. When He depart, an Emptiness Is the prevailing Freight.
302 Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done— Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin,
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
771 None can experience sting Who Bounty—have not known— The fact of Famine—could not be Except for Fact of Corn—
On this wondrous sea Sailing silently, Ho! Pilot, ho! Knowest thou the shore Where no breakers roar—
XXXVII LOVE is anterior to life, Posterior to death, Initial of creation, and The exponent of breath.
956 What shall I do when the Summer t… What, when the Rose is ripe— What when the Eggs fly off in Mus… From the Maple Keep?