#AmericanWriters
176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?
260 Read—Sweet—how others—strove— Till we—are stouter— What they—renounced— Till we—are less afraid—
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…
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
Remorse– is Memory– awake - Her Parties all astir - A Presence of Departed Acts - At window– and at Door – Its Past - set down before the S…
34 Garland for Queens, may be— Laurels—for rare degree Of soul or sword. Ah—but remembering me—
There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us—
921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.
Tell as a Marksman - were forgot… Tell - this Day endures Ruddy as that coeval Apple The Tradition bears - Fresh as Mankind that humble stor…
93 Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell!
It dropped so low in my regard I heard it hit the ground, And go to pieces on the stones At bottom of my mind; Yet blamed the fate that fractured…
Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin,
256 If I’m lost—now That I was found— Shall still my transport be— That once—on me—those Jasper Gate…
XXXIII DARE you see a soul at the white… Then crouch within the door. Red is the fire’s common tint; But when the vivid ore