#AmericanWriters
A clock stopped—not the mantel’s Geneva’s farthest skill Can’t put the puppet bowing That just now dangled still. An awe came on the trinket!
25 She slept beneath a tree— Remembered but by me. I touched her Cradle mute— She recognized the foot—
A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind. The vane a little to the east
He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees, Prepares your brittle substance
LXVII Presentment is that long shadow on… Indicative that suns go down; The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.
250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation—
Elysium is as far as to The very nearest Room If in that Room a Friend await Felicity or Doom— What fortitude the Soul contains
To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn't hurt— It's only fainter—by degrees— And then—it's out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—
XXXIII DARE you see a soul at the white… Then crouch within the door. Red is the fire’s common tint; But when the vivid ore
92 My friend must be a Bird’— Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies!
Lightly stepped a yellow star To its lofty place - Loosed the Moon her silver hat From her lustral Face - All of Evening softly lit
253 You see I cannot see—your lifetim… I must guess— How many times it ache for me—toda… How many times for my far sake
‘Heavenly Father’ - take to thee The supreme iniquity Fashioned by thy candid Hand In a moment contraband - Though to trust us - seems to us
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plant… At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop opon a Spot As if it tarried always
343 My Reward for Being, was This. My premium—My Bliss— An Admiralty, less— A Sceptre—penniless—