#AmericanWriters
The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land,
The Clover’s simple Fame Remembered of the Cow - Is better than enameled Realms Of notability. Renown perceives itself
556 The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly—and true— But let a Splinter swerve— ’Twere easier for You—
The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.
338 I know that He exists. Somewhere—in Silence— He has hid his rare life From our gross eyes.
132 I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching Next to mine, And summon them to drink;
811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”
400 A Tongue’—to tell Him I am true! Its fee’—to be of Gold’— Had Nature’—in Her monstrous Hou… A single Ragged Child’—
It dropped so low—in my Regard— I heard it hit the Ground— And go to pieces on the Stones At bottom of my Mind— Yet blamed the Fate that flung it…
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…
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry....
285 The Robin’s my Criterion for Tun… Because I grow—where Robins do— But, were I Cuckoo born— I’d swear by him—
71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—
883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light
XLVIII THOUGH I get home how late, how… So I get home, ’t will compensate… Better will be the ecstasy That they have done expecting me,