#AmericanWriters
Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!
Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion - Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun,
The Butterfly upon the Sky, That doesn’t know its Name And hasn’t any tax to pay And hasn’t any Home Is just as high as you and I,
778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—
My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I’m feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be
29 If those I loved were lost The Crier’s voice would tell me— If those I loved were found The bells of Ghent would ring—
The Wind took up the Northern Th… And piled them in the south - Then gave the East unto the West And opening his mouth The four Divisions of the Earth
A Death blow is a Life blow to S… Who till they died, did not alive… Who had they lived, had died but w… They died, Vitality begun.
A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass…
LXXIX I YEARS had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before
A lane of Yellow led the eye Unto a Purple Wood Whose soft inhabitants to be Surpasses solitude If Bird the silence contradict
94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling&m da… Do the Buds to them belong?
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
925 Struck, was I, not yet by Lightni… Lightning—lets away Power to perceive His Process With Vitality.
914 I cannot be ashamed Because I cannot see The love you offer— Magnitude