#AmericanWriters
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 fractured…
453 Love — thou art high — I cannot climb thee — But, were it Two — Who knows but we —
959 A loss of something ever felt I— The first that I could recollect Bereft I was—of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect
I breathed enough to learn the tri… And now, removed from air, I simulate the breath so well, That one, to be quite sure The lungs are stirless, must desce…
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—
150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—
’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away! ’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
293 I got so I could take his name— Without—Tremendous gain— That Stop-sensation—on my Soul— And Thunder—in the Room—
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—
851 When the Astronomer stops seeking For his Pleiad’s Face— When the lone British Lady Forsakes the Arctic Race
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—
Luck is not chance It’s Toil Fortune’s expensive smile Is earned The Father of the Mine
218 Is it true, dear Sue? Are there two? I shouldn’t like to come For fear of joggling Him!
68 Ambition cannot find him. Affection doesn’t know How many leagues of nowhere Lie between them now.