#AmericanWriters
123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.
XVII WHEN night is almost done, And sunrise grows so near That we can touch the spaces, It ’s time to smooth the hair
537 Me prove it now—Whoever doubt Me stop to prove it—now— Make haste—the Scruple! Death be… For Opportunity—
598 Three times—we parted—Breath—and… Three times—He would not go— But strove to stir the lifeless F… The Waters—strove to stay.
The cricket sang, And set the sun, And workmen finished, one by one, Their seam the day upon. The low grass loaded with the dew,
607 Of nearness to her sundered Thing… The Soul has special times— When Dimness—looks the Oddity— Distinctness—easy—se ems—
I felt a cleaving in my mind As if my brain had split; I tried to match it, seam by seam, But could not make them fit. The thought behind I strove to jo…
They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…
1034 His Bill an Auger is, His Head, a Cap and Frill. He laboreth at every Tree A Worm, His utmost Goal.
180 As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem— Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came
1540 As imperceptibly as Grief The Summer lapsed away— Too imperceptible at last To seem like Perfidy—
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
A narrow fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,—did you not, His notice sudden is. The grass divides as with a comb,
Could Hope inspect her Basis Her Craft were done - Has a fictitious Charter Or it has none - Balked in the vastest instance
217 Savior! I’ve no one else to tell— And so I trouble thee. I am the one forgot thee so— Dost thou remember me?