#AmericanWriters
108 Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit—Life!
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
1000 The Fingers of the Light Tapped soft upon the Town With “I am great and cannot wait So therefore let me in.”
Tell all the truth but tell it sla… Success in circuit lies, Too bright for our infirm delight The truth’s superb surprise; As lightning to the children eased
627 The Tint I cannot take—is best— The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar— A Guinea at a sight—
XXIV WHETHER my bark went down at se… Whether she met with gales, Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails;
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
548 Death is potential to that Man Who dies—and to his friend— Beyond that—unconspicuous To Anyone but God—
She sweeps with many-colored broom… And leaves the shreds behind; Oh, housewife in the evening west, Come back, and dust the pond! You dropped a purple ravelling in,
XXI HE ate and drank the precious wor… His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust.
“Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn, A mighty look runs round the Worl…
He ate and drank the precious Wor… His Spirit grew robust— He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was Dust— He danced along the dingy Days
599 There is a pain’—so utter’— It swallows substance up’— Then covers the Abyss with Trance… So Memory can step
The Butterfly upon the Sky, That doesn’t know its Name And hasn’t any tax to pay And hasn’t any Home Is just as high as you and I,
831 Dying! To be afraid of thee One must to thine Artillery Have left exposed a Friend— Than thine old Arrow is a Shot