#AmericanWriters
485 To make One’s Toilette—after Dea… Has made the Toilette cool Of only Taste we cared to please Is difficult, and still—
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
393 Did Our Best Moment last— ‘Twould supersede the Heaven— A few—and they by Risk—procure— So this Sort—are not given—
XCIX THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry.
1035 Bee! I’m expecting you! Was saying Yesterday To Somebody you know That you were due—
698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—
965 Denial—is the only fact Perceived by the Denied— Whose Will—a numb significance— The Day the Heaven died—
I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town, And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down. And then they grew so jolly
221 It can’t be “Summer”! That—got through! It’s early—yet—for “Spring”! There’s that long town of White—t…
562 Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns— Adds poignancy to Winter— The Shivering Fancy turns
954 The Chemical conviction That Nought be lost Enable in Disaster My fractured Trust—
I bet with every Wind that blew Till Nature in chagrin Employed a Fact to visit me And scuttle my Balloon -
57 To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I,
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
867 Escaping backward to perceive The Sea upon our place— Escaping forward, to confront His glittering Embrace—