#AmericanWriters
Of Brussels—it was not— Of Kidderminster? Nay— The Winds did buy it of the Woods… They—sold it unto me It was a gentle price—
662 Embarrassment of one another And God Is Revelation’s limit, Aloud
Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!
115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?
131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—
368 How sick—to wait—in any place—but… I knew last night—when someone tri… Thinking—perhaps—that I looked ti… Or breaking—almost—with unspoken p…
50 I haven’t told my garden yet— Lest that should conquer me. I haven’t quite the strength now To break it to the Bee—
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—
461 A Wife—at daybreak I shall be— Sunrise—Hast thou a Flag for me? At Midnight, I am but a Maid, How short it takes to make a Brid…
113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…
Because I could not stop for Deat… He kindly stopped for me– The Carriage held but just Oursel… And Immortality. We slowly drove– He knew no haste
XIX I STARTED early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me,
972 Unfulfilled to Observation— Incomplete—to Eye— But to Faith—a Revolution In Locality—
171 Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now!
