#AmericanWriters #CommonMeasure #Epigram
Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!
Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture
380 There is a flower that Bees prefe… And Butterflies—desire— To gain the Purple Democrat The Humming Bird—aspire—
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
132 I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching Next to mine, And summon them to drink;
187 How many times these low feet stag… Only the soldered mouth can tell— Try—can you stir the awful rivet— Try—can you lift the hasps of stee…
The Butterfly’s Assumption Gown In Chrysoprase Apartments hung This afternoon put on— How condescending to descend And be of Buttercups the friend
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
‘And with what body do they come?’… Then they do come - Rejoice! What Door– What Hour– Run– ru… Illuminate the House! ‘Body!’ Then real– a Face and E…
158 Dying! Dying in the night! Won’t somebody bring the light So I can see which way to go Into the everlasting snow?
XXX WE play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool.
110 Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year!
Before you thought of spring, Except as a surmise, You see, God bless his suddenness… A fellow in the skies Of independent hues,
657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—
995 This was in the White of the Year… That—was in the Green— Drifts were as difficult then to t… As Daisies now to be seen—