#AmericanWriters
XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.
434 To love thee Year by Year— May less appear Than sacrifice, and cease— However, dear,
Let me not mar that perfect Dream By an Auroral stain But so adjust my daily Night That it will come again. Not when we know, the Power accos…
Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped Freight Of a delivered syllable ‘Twould crumble with the weight.
To mend each tattered Faith There is a needle fair Though no appearance indicate ’Tis threaded in the Air And though it do not wear
592 What care the Dead, for Chanticle… What care the Dead for Day? ’Tis late your Sunrise vex their… And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning
652 A Prison gets to be a friend— Between its Ponderous face And Ours—a Kinsmanship express— And in its narrow Eyes—
395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity
517 He parts Himself’—like Leaves’— And then’—He closes up’— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup’—
34 Garland for Queens, may be— Laurels—for rare degree Of soul or sword. Ah—but remembering me—
532 I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen— Some Polar Expiation—An Omen in… Of Death’s tremendous nearness—
910 Experience is the Angled Road Preferred against the Mind By—Paradox—the Mind itself— Presuming it to lead
982 No Other can reduce Our mortal Consequence Like the remembering it be nought A Period from hence
859 A Doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—