#AmericanWriters
The sky is low, the clouds are mea… A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day
646 I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify—
881 I’ve none to tell me to but Thee So when Thou failest, nobody. It was a little tie— It just held Two, nor those it he…
56 If I should cease to bring a Rose Upon a festal day, ‘Twill be because beyond the Rose I have been called away—
355 ’Tis Opposites—entice— Deformed Men—ponder Grace— Bright fires—the Blanketless— The Lost—Day’s face—
262 The lonesome for they know not Wh… The Eastern Exiles—be— Who strayed beyond the Amber line Some madder Holiday—
758 These’—saw Visions’— Latch them softly’— These’—held Dimples’— Smooth them slow’—
151 Mute thy Coronation— Meek my Vive le roi, Fold a tiny courtier In thine Ermine, Sir,
735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
560 It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation… But large—serene— Burned on—until through Dissoluti… It failed from Men—
22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—
Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
833 Perhaps you think me stooping I’m not ashamed of that Christ—stooped until He touched t… Do those at Sacrament
626 Only God—detect the Sorrow— Only God— The Jehovahs—are no Babblers— Unto God—