#AmericanWriters
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—
833 Perhaps you think me stooping I’m not ashamed of that Christ—stooped until He touched t… Do those at Sacrament
LXVII Presentment is that long shadow on… Indicative that suns go down; The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.
221 It can’t be “Summer”! That—got through! It’s early—yet—for “Spring”! There’s that long town of White—t…
295 Unto like Story—Trouble has entic… How Kinsmen fell— Brothers and Sister—who preferred… And their young will
637 The Child’s faith is new— Whole—like His Principle— Wide—like the Sunrise On fresh Eyes—
37 Before the ice is in the pools— Before the skaters go, Or any check at nightfall Is tarnished by the snow—
608 Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death—for who is He? The Porter of my Father’s Lodge As much abasheth me!
921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.
Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!
137 Flowers—Well—if anybody Can the ecstasy define— Half a transport—half a trouble— With which flowers humble men:
Success is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple Host
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—