#AmericanWriters
914 I cannot be ashamed Because I cannot see The love you offer— Magnitude
616 I rose—because He sank— I thought it would be opposite— But when his power dropped— My Soul grew straight.
617 Don’t put up my Thread and Needle… I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle— Better Stitches—so—
190 He was weak, and I was strong—the… So He let me lead him in— I was weak, and He was strong the… So I let him lead me—Home.
645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—
761 From Blank to Blank— A Threadless Way I pushed Mechanic feet— To stop—or perish—or advance—
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
356 The Day that I was crowned Was like the other Days— Until the Coronation came— And then—'twas Otherwise—
138 Pigmy seraphs’—gone astray’— Velvet people from Vevay’— Balles from some lost summer day’— Bees exclusive Coterie’—
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
XXII I GAVE myself to him, And took himself for pay. The solemn contract of a life Was ratified this way.
A lane of Yellow led the eye Unto a Purple Wood Whose soft inhabitants to be Surpasses solitude If Bird the silence contradict
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—
232 The Sun’—just touched the Morning… The Morning’—Happy thing’— Supposed that He had come to dwel… And Life would all be Spring!
A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.