#AmericanWriters
453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we—
87 A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
106 The Daisy follows soft the Sun— And when his golden walk is done— Sits shyly at his feet— He—waking—finds the flower there—
I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come,
The nearest dream recedes, unreali… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school-boy Invites the race;
783 The Birds begun at Four o’clock— Their period for Dawn— A Music numerous as space— But neighboring as Noon—
When a Lover is a Beggar Abject is his Knee - When a Lover is an Owner Different is he - What he begged is then the Beggar…
“Why do I love” You, Sir? Because’— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer’—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place.
186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—
184 A transport one cannot contain May yet a transport be— Though God forbid it lift the lid… Unto its Ecstasy!
850 I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I
145 This heart that broke so long— These feet that never flagged— This faith that watched for star i… Give gently to the dead—
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—
242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—