#AmericanWriters
Come slowly, Eden Lips unused to thee. Bashful, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee,
34 Garland for Queens, may be— Laurels—for rare degree Of soul or sword. Ah—but remembering me—
LXXXIII This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond — Invisible, as Music — But positive, as Sound —
411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—
I cannot live with You— It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to—
997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.
Abraham to kill him Was distinctly told’— Isaac was an Urchin’— Abraham was old’— Not a hesitation’—
342 It will be Summer—eventually. Ladies—with parasols— Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes— And little Girls—with Dolls—
The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.
Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird —reach it! Curve by Curve —Sweep by Sweep — Round the Steep Air — Danger! What is that to Her?
XIII THE soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
I never hear the word 'escape’ Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad
852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.
XII I CANNOT live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
169 In Ebon Box, when years have flow… To reverently peer, Wiping away the velvet dust Summers have sprinkled there!