#AmericanWriters
329 So glad we are’—a Stranger’d deem ’Twas sorry, that we were’— For where the Holiday should be There publishes a Tear’—
356 The Day that I was crowned Was like the other Days— Until the Coronation came— And then—'twas Otherwise—
It’s like the light,— A fashionless delight It’s like the bee,— A dateless melody. It’s like the woods,
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.
UP with the sun, the breeze arose… Across the talking corn she goes, And smooth she rustles far and wid… Through all the voiceful countrysi… Through all the land her tale she…
207 Tho’ I get home how late’—how lat… So I get home - 'twill compensate… Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me’—
927 Absent Place—an April Day— Daffodils a-blow Homesick curiosity To the Souls that snow—
655 Without this’—there is nought’— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird’— Heard opposite the Sea’—
15 The Guest is gold and crimson— An Opal guest and gray— Of Ermine is his doublet— His Capuchin gay—
A Wind that rose Though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred But with itself did cold engage Beyond the Realm of Bird -
“Speech”'—is a prank of Parliamen… “Tears”'—is a trick of the nerve’— But the Heart with the heaviest f… Doesn’t’—always’—move’—
365 Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore
Not Sickness stains the Brave, Nor any Dart, Nor Doubt of Scene to come, But an adjourning Heart -
477 No Man can compass a Despair— As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed—
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—