#AmericanWriters
672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
286 That after Horror — that ’twas us… That passed the mouldering Pier — Just as the Granite Crumb let go… Our Savior, by a Hair —
656 The name—of it—is “Autumn”— The hue—of it—is Blood— An Artery—upon the Hill— A Vein—along the Road—
109 By a flower—By a letter— By a nimble love— If I weld the Rivet faster— Final fast—above—
695 As if the Sea should part And show a further Sea— And that—a further—and the Three But a presumption be—
774 It is a lonesome Glee— Yet sanctifies the Mind— With fair association— Afar upon the Wind
553 One Crucifixion is recorded’—only… How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics’— Or History’—
934 That is solemn we have ended Be it but a Play Or a Glee among the Garret Or a Holiday
86 South Winds jostle them— Bumblebees come— Hover—hesitate— Dri nk, and are gone—
855 To own the Art within the Soul The Soul to entertain With Silence as a Company And Festival maintain
STEP lightly on this narrow spot… The broadest land that grows Is not so ample as the breast These emerald seams enclose. Step lofty; for this name is told
There cam a Wind like a Bugle - It quivered through the Grass And a Green Chill upon the Heat So ominous did pass We barred the Windows and the Doo…
XCIX THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry.
131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—