#AmericanWriters
The going from a world we know To one a wonder still Is like the child’s adversity Whose vista is a hill, Behind the hill is sorcery
929 How far is it to Heaven? As far as Death this way— Of River or of Ridge beyond Was no discovery.
491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood
913 And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning ros… Early and sere, its end
20 Distrustful of the Gentian— And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy—
854 Banish Air from Air— Divide Light if you dare— They’ll meet While Cubes in a Drop
We like March, his shoes are purp… He is new and high; Makes he mud for dog and peddler, Makes he forest dry; Knows the adder’s tongue his comin…
329 So glad we are’—a Stranger’d deem ’Twas sorry, that we were’— For where the Holiday should be There publishes a Tear’—
97 The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by, Yet is she more convincing Than Philosophy.
493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—
699 The Judge is like the Owl— I’ve heard my Father tell— And Owls do build in Oaks— So here’s an Amber Sill—
I DIED for beauty, but was scarc… Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
620 It makes no difference abroad— The Seasons—fit—the same— The Mornings blossom into Noons— And split their Pods of Flame—
558 But little Carmine hath her face— Of Emerald scant—her Gown— Her Beauty—is the love she doth— Itself—exhibit—Mine&md ash;
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—