#AmericanWriters
316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—
743 The Birds reported from the South… A News express to Me— A spicy Charge, My little Posts— But I am deaf—Today—
426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…
LXXXV A LIGHT exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here
675 Essential Oilsare wrung The Attar from the Rose Be not expressed by Sunsalone It is the gift of Screws
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
867 Escaping backward to perceive The Sea upon our place— Escaping forward, to confront His glittering Embrace—
Pain—has an Element of Blank— It cannot recollect When it begun—or if there were A time when it was not— It has no Future—but itself—
497 He strained my faith— Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust— Did it then—yield?
631 Ourselves were wed one summer’—dea… Your Vision’—was in June’— And when Your little Lifetime fai… I wearied’—too’—of mine’—
59 A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard—
A lane of Yellow led the eye Unto a Purple Wood Whose soft inhabitants to be Surpasses solitude If Bird the silence contradict
Me! Come! My dazzled face In such a shining place! Me! Hear! My foreign ear The sounds of welcome near! The saints shall meet
I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town, And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down. And then they grew so jolly
802 Time feels so vast that were it no… For an Eternity— I fear me this Circumference Engross my Finity—