#AmericanWriters
234 You’re right—“the way is narrow”— And “difficult the Gate”— And “few there be”—Correct again— That “enter in—thereat”—
The Hills in Purple syllables The Day’s Adventures tell To little Groups of Continents Just going Home from School.
They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…
369 She lay as if at play Her life had leaped away— Intending to return— But not so soon—
94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling&m da… Do the Buds to them belong?
307 The One who could repeat the Summ… Were greater than itself—though H… Minutest of Mankind should be— And He—could reproduce the Sun—
684 Best Gains’—must have the Losses’… To constitute them’—Gains’—
1510 How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears—
416 A Murmur in the Trees—to note— Not loud enough—for Wind— A Star—not far enough to seek— Nor near enough—to find—
Yesterday is History, ’Tis so far away - Yesterday is Poetry - ’Tis Philosophy - Yesterday is mystery -
124 In lands I never saw—they say Immortal Alps look down— Whose Bonnets touch the firmament… Whose Sandals touch the town—
720 No Prisoner be— Where Liberty— Himself—abide with Thee—
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
312 Her—“last Poems”— Poets—ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled other,
666 Ah, Teneriffe! Retreating Mountain! Purples of Ages—pause for you— Sunset—reviews her Sapphire Regim…