#AmericanWriters
LVIII PORTRAITS are to daily faces As an evening west To a fine, pedantic sunshine In a satin vest.
The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend— Or the most agonizing Spy— An Enemy—could send— Secure against its own—
699 The Judge is like the Owl— I’ve heard my Father tell— And Owls do build in Oaks— So here’s an Amber Sill—
I DIED for beauty, but was scarc… Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
926 Patience—has a quiet Outer— Patience—Look within— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites—between—
896 Of Silken Speech and Specious Sh… A Traitor is the Bee His service to the newest Grace Present continually
62 “Sown in dishonor”! Ah! Indeed! May this “dishonor” be? If I were half so fine myself
621 I asked no other thing— No other—was denied— I offered Being—for it— The Mighty Merchant sneered—
612 It would have starved a Gnat— To live so small as I— And yet I was a living Child— With Food’s necessity
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—
519 ’Twas warm—at first—like Us— Until there crept upon A Chill—like frost upon a Glass— Till all the scene—be gone.
822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone
895 A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliarie… Are forever lost to me
849 The good Will of a Flower The Man who would possess Must first present Certificate
Revolution is the Pod Systems rattle from When the Winds of Will are stirre… Excellent is Bloom But except its Russet Base
