#AmericanWriters
The day came slow, till five o’clo… Then sprang before the hills, Like hindered rubies, or the light… A sudden musket spills. The purple could not keep the east…
LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
43 Could live—did live— Could die—did die— Could smile upon the whole Through faith in one he met not,
189 It’s such a little thing to weep— So short a thing to sigh— And yet—by Trades—the size of the… We men and women die!
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—
763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years—
High from the earth I heard a bir… He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then he spied a breeze, And situated softly
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?
There comes a warning like a spy A shorter breath of Day A stealing that is not a stealth And Summers are away
120 If this is “fading” Oh let me immediately “fade”! If this is “dying” Bury me, in such a shroud of red!
910 Experience is the Angled Road Preferred against the Mind By—Paradox—the Mind itself— Presuming it to lead
‘Faithful to the end’ Amended From the Heavenly Clause - Constancy with a Proviso Constancy abhors - ‘Crowns of Life’ are servile Priz…
99 New feet within my garden go— New fingers stir the sod— A Troubadour upon the Elm Betrays the solitude.
The inundation of the Spring Enlarges every soul - It sweeps the tenement away But leaves the Water whole - In which the soul at first estrang…
The sky is low, the clouds are mea… A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day