#AmericanWriters
They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the lune A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…
1763 Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.
405 It might be lonelier Without the Loneliness— I’m so accustomed to my Fate— Perhaps the Other—Peace—
XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
519 ’Twas warm—at first—like Us— Until there crept upon A Chill—like frost upon a Glass— Till all the scene—be gone.
242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—
616 I rose—because He sank— I thought it would be opposite— But when his power dropped— My Soul grew straight.
995 This was in the White of the Year… That—was in the Green— Drifts were as difficult then to t… As Daisies now to be seen—
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,
523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
610 You’ll find—it when you try to die… The Easier to let go— For recollecting such as went— You could not spare—you know.
780 The Truth — is stirless — Other force — may be presumed to m… This — then — is best for confiden… When oldest Cedars swerve —
856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.
The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale
