#AmericanWriters
487 You love the Lord’—you cannot see… You write Him’—every day’— A little note’—when you awake’— And further in the Day.
975 The Mountain sat upon the Plain In his tremendous Chair— His observation omnifold, His inquest, everywhere—
326 I cannot dance upon my Toes’— No Man instructed me’— But oftentimes, among my mind, A Glee possesseth me,
433 Knows how to forget! But could It teach it? Easiest of Arts, they say When one learn how
939 What I see not, I better see— Through Faith—my Hazel Eye Has periods of shutting— But, No lid has Memory—
548 Death is potential to that Man Who dies—and to his friend— Beyond that—unconspicuous To Anyone but God—
131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—
Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!
426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…
226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—
Nature rarer uses Yellow Than another Hue. Saves she all of that for Sunsets Prodigal of Blue Spending Scarlet, like a Woman
Of all the souls that stand create I have elected one. When sense from spirit files away, And subterfuge is done; When that which is and that which…
570 I could die’—to know’— ’Tis a trifling knowledge’— News-Boys salute the Door’— Carts’—joggle by’—
147 Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast— Grant God, he charge the bravest Of all the martial blest!