#AmericanWriters
XXVIII A CHARM invests a face Imperfectly beheld,— The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled.
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
XVII SHE rose to his requirement, drop… The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
569 I reckon—when I count at all— First—Poets—Then the Sun— Then Summer—Then the Heaven of G… And then—the List is done—
DEAR March, come in! How glad I am! I looked for you before. Put down your hat— You must have walked—
26 It’s all I have to bring today— This, and my heart beside— This, and my heart, and all the fi… And all the meadows wide—
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
LXXXIX A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just
496 As far from pity, as complaint— As cool to speech—as stone— As numb to Revelation As if my Trade were Bone—
Why – do they shut Me out of Heav… Did I sing – too loud? But – I can say a little “minor” Timid as a Bird! Wouldn’t the Angels try me –
How lonesome the Wind must feel N… When people have put out the Ligh… And everything that has an Inn Closes the shutter and goes in— How pompous the Wind must feel No…
897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.
138 Pigmy seraphs’—gone astray’— Velvet people from Vevay’— Balles from some lost summer day’— Bees exclusive Coterie’—
130 These are the days when Birds com… A very few—a Bird or two— To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resu…
271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—