#AmericanWriters
Between My Country—and the Other… There is a Sea— But Flowers—negotiate between us— As Ministry.
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
Volcanoes be in Sicily And South America I judge from my Geography - Volcanos nearer here A Lava step at any time
886 These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude.
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
761 From Blank to Blank— A Threadless Way I pushed Mechanic feet— To stop—or perish—or advance—
457 Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—House… Sealed so stately tight— Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble— Locking Bare feet out—
870 Finding is the first Act The second, loss, Third, Expedition for The “Golden Fleece”
319 Of Bronze — and Blaze — The North — tonight — So adequate — it forms — So preconcerted with itself —
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
525 I think the Hemlock likes to stan… Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe
673 The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon…
703 Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird—reach it! Curve by Curve—Sweep by Sweep— Round the Steep Air—
