#AmericanWriters
751 My Worthiness is all my Doubt— His Merit—all my fear— Contrasting which, my quality Do lowlier—appear—
884 As Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land.
899 Herein a Blossom lies— A Sepulchre, between— Cross it, and overcome the Bee— Remain—'tis but a Rind.
20 Distrustful of the Gentian— And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy—
The Hills in Purple syllables The Day’s Adventures tell To little Groups of Continents Just going Home from School.
897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.
659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—
Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself— Tastes Death—the first—to hand th…
386 Answer July— Where is the Bee— Where is the Blush— Where is the Hay?
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
The Grass so little has to do ' A Sphere of simple Green ' With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain ' And stir all day to pretty Tunes
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—
918 Only a Shrine, but Mine— I made the Taper shine— Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may… Regard a Nun—
902 The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it—How still— That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it—as well—
367 Over and over, like a Tune— The Recollection plays— Drums off the Phantom Battlements Cornets of Paradise—