#AmericanWriters
952 A Man may make a Remark— In itself—a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a… In dormant nature—lain—
168 If the foolish, call them “flowers… Need the wiser, tell? If the Savants “Classify” them It is just as well!
‘T was just this time last year I… I know I heard the corn, When I was carried by the farms,— It had the tassels on. I thought how yellow it would look
582 Inconceivably solemn! Things go gay Pierce—by the very Press Of Imagery—
170 Portraits are to daily faces As an Evening West, To a fine, pedantic sunshine— In a satin Vest!
167 To learn the Transport by the Pai… As Blind Men learn the sun! To die of thirst—suspecting That Brooks in Meadows run!
848 Just as He spoke it from his Hand… This Edifice remain— A Turret more, a Turret less Dishonor his Design—
657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—
437 Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence—is denied them. They fling their Speech
131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—
454 It was given to me by the Gods— When I was a little Girl— They given us Presents most—you k… When we are new—and small.
779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—
940 On that dear Frame the Years had… Yet precious as the House In which We first experienced Lig… The Witnessing, to Us—
An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.
369 She lay as if at play Her life had leaped away— Intending to return— But not so soon—