#AmericanWriters
887 We outgrow love, like other things And put it in the Drawer— Till it an Antique fashion shows— Like Costumes Grandsires wore.
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
XVIII READ, sweet, how others strove, Till we are stouter; What they renounced, Till we are less afraid;
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
286 That after Horror — that ’twas us… That passed the mouldering Pier — Just as the Granite Crumb let go… Our Savior, by a Hair —
57 To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I,
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
The Sea said 'Come’ to the Brook… The Brook said 'Let me grow’ - The Sea said 'Then you will be a… I want a Brook - Come now’! The Sea said 'Go’ to the Sea -
MY cocoon tightens, colors tease, I 'm feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be
523 Sweet — You forgot — but I rememb… Every time — for Two — So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You —
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—
105 To hang our head—ostensibly— And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind—
237 I think just how my shape will ris… When I shall be “forgiven”— Till Hair—and Eyes—and timid Hea… Are out of sight—in Heaven—
LVIII PORTRAITS are to daily faces As an evening west To a fine, pedantic sunshine In a satin vest.