#AmericanWriters
UP with the sun, the breeze arose… Across the talking corn she goes, And smooth she rustles far and wid… Through all the voiceful countrysi… Through all the land her tale she…
575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,
Our journey had advanced; Our feet were almost come To that odd fork in Being’s road, Eternity by term. Our pace took sudden awe,
127 “Houses”—so the Wise Men tell me— “Mansions”! Mansions must be warm… Mansions cannot let the tears in, Mansions must exclude the storm!
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
652 A Prison gets to be a friend— Between its Ponderous face And Ours—a Kinsmanship express— And in its narrow Eyes—
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering—
108 Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit—Life!
645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—
20 Distrustful of the Gentian— And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy—
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
801 I play at Riches’—to appease The Clamoring for Gold’— It kept me from a Thief, I think, For often, overbold
27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.
213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?