#AmericanWriters
469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—
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
178 I cautious, scanned my little life… I winnowed what would fade From what would last till Heads l… Should be a-dreaming laid.
They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…
934 That is solemn we have ended Be it but a Play Or a Glee among the Garret Or a Holiday
It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bell… Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh
XVII WHEN night is almost done, And sunrise grows so near That we can touch the spaces, It ’s time to smooth the hair
574 My first well Day — since many il… I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands… And see the things in Pod —
984 ’Tis Anguish grander than Delight ’Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again.
811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”
371 A precious’—mouldering pleasure’—'… To meet an Antique Book’— In just the Dress his Century wor… A privilege’—I think’—
98 One dignity delays for all— One mitred Afternoon— None can avoid this purple— None evade this Crown!
587 Empty my Heart, of Thee— Its single Artery— Begin, and leave Thee out— Simply Extinction’s Date—
I dreaded that first robin so, But he is mastered now, And I’m accustomed to him grown,— He hurts a little, though. I thought if I could only live
I bet with every Wind that blew Till Nature in chagrin Employed a Fact to visit me And scuttle my Balloon -