#AmericanWriters
VIII A wounded deer leaps highest, I ’ve heard the hunter tell; ’T is but the ecstasy of death, And then the brake is still.
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
35 Nobody knows this little Rose— It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee.
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
758 These’—saw Visions’— Latch them softly’— These’—held Dimples’— Smooth them slow’—
121 As Watchers hang upon the East, As Beggars revel at a feast By savory Fancy spread— As brooks in deserts babble sweet
283 A Mien to move a Queen— Half Child—Half Heroine— An Orleans in the Eye That puts its manner by
642 Me from Myself — to banish — Had I Art — Impregnable my Fortress Unto All Heart —
One need not be a chamber to be ha… One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place. Far safer, of a midnight meeting
646 I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify—
44 If she had been the Mistletoe And I had been the Rose— How gay upon your table My velvet life to close—
915 Faith’—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not’— Too slender for the eye
298 Alone, I cannot be— For Hosts—do visit me— Recordless Company— Who baffle Key—
682 'Twould ease — a Butterfly — Elate — a Bee — Thou'rt neither — Neither — thy capacity —
It sounded as if the Streets were… And then– the Streets stood stil… Eclipse - was all we could see at… And Awe - was all we could feel. By and by - the boldest stole out…