#AmericanWriters
A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind. The vane a little to the east
57 To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I,
XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.
12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.
180 As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem— Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came
107 ’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away!
603 He found my Being—set it up— Adjusted it to place— Then carved his name—upon it— And bade it to the East
Air has no Residence, no Neighbor… No Ear, no Door, No Apprehension of Another Oh, Happy Air! Ethereal Guest at e’en an Outcast…
48 Once more, my now bewildered Dove Bestirs her puzzled wings Once more her mistress, on the dee… Her troubled question flings—
The Clover’s simple Fame Remembered of the Cow - Is better than enameled Realms Of notability. Renown perceives itself
144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.
Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.
I had been hungry all the years– My noon had come, to dine– I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. ‘T was this on tables I had seen
848 Just as He spoke it from his Hand… This Edifice remain— A Turret more, a Turret less Dishonor his Design—
464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—