#AmericanWriters
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—
966 All forgot for recollecting Just a paltry One— All forsook, for just a Stranger’… New Accompanying—
145 This heart that broke so long— These feet that never flagged— This faith that watched for star i… Give gently to the dead—
93 Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell!
HE preached upon “breadth” till i… The broad are too broad to define: And of “truth” until it proclaimed… The truth never flaunted a sign. Simplicity fled from his counterfe…
XXXVII LOVE is anterior to life, Posterior to death, Initial of creation, and The exponent of breath.
The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly -
519 ’Twas warm—at first—like Us— Until there crept upon A Chill—like frost upon a Glass— Till all the scene—be gone.
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!
188 Make me a picture of the sun— So I can hang it in my room— And make believe I’m getting warm When others call it “Day”!
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
I meant to find her when I came; Death had the same design; But the success was his, it seems, And the discomfit mine. I meant to tell her how I longed
A Word dropped careless on a Page May stimulate an eye When folded in perpetual seam The Wrinkled Maker lie Infection in the sentence breeds