#AmericanWriters
A clock stopped—not the mantel’s Geneva’s farthest skill Can’t put the puppet bowing That just now dangled still. An awe came on the trinket!
336 The face I carry with me’—last’— When I go out of Time’— To take my Rank’—by’—in the West’… That face’—will just be thine’—
I found the phrase to every though… I ever had, but one; And that defies me,—as a hand Did try to chalk the sun To races nurtured in the dark;—
933 Two Travellers perishing in Snow The Forests as they froze Together heard them strengthening Each other with the words
I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died
928 The Heart has narrow Banks It measures like the Sea In mighty—unremitting Bass And Blue Monotony
593 I think I was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful—
833 Perhaps you think me stooping I’m not ashamed of that Christ—stooped until He touched t… Do those at Sacrament
204 A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky—
LVIII PORTRAITS are to daily faces As an evening west To a fine, pedantic sunshine In a satin vest.
The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land,
I see thee better—in the Dark— I do not need a Light— The Love of Thee—a Prism be— Excelling Violet— I see thee better for the Years
927 Absent Place—an April Day— Daffodils a-blow Homesick curiosity To the Souls that snow—
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come,