#AmericanWriters
The wind tapped like a tired man, And like a host, ‘Come in,’ I boldly answered; entered then My residence within A rapid, footless guest,
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—
295 Unto like Story—Trouble has entic… How Kinsmen fell— Brothers and Sister—who preferred… And their young will
LXV GOOD night! which put the candle… A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. Ah! friend, you little knew How long at that celestial wick
145 This heart that broke so long— These feet that never flagged— This faith that watched for star i… Give gently to the dead—
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
927 Absent Place—an April Day— Daffodils a-blow Homesick curiosity To the Souls that snow—
371 A precious’—mouldering pleasure’—'… To meet an Antique Book’— In just the Dress his Century wor… A privilege’—I think’—
298 Alone, I cannot be— For Hosts—do visit me— Recordless Company— Who baffle Key—
March is the Month of Expectation… The things we do not know - The Persons of prognostication Are coming now - We try to show becoming firmness -
XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.
21 We lose’—because we win’— Gamblers’—recollecting which Toss their dice again!
340 Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot
Longing is like the Seed That wrestles in the Ground, Believing if it intercede It shall at length be found. The Hour, and the Clime -