#AmericanWriters
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
203 He forgot—and I—remembered— ’Twas an everyday affair— Long ago as Christ and Peter— “Warmed them” at the “Temple fire…
191 The Skies can’t keep their secret… They tell it to the Hills— The Hills just tell the Orchards— And they—the Daffodils!
My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I’m feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be
No matter—now—Sweet— But when I’m Earl— Won’t you wish you’d spoken To that dull Girl? Trivial a Word—just—
430 It would never be Common — more —… Difference — had begun — Many a bitterness — had been — But that old sort — was done —
954 The Chemical conviction That Nought be lost Enable in Disaster My fractured Trust—
717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—
269 Bound—a trouble— And lives can bear it! Limit—how deep a bleeding go! So—many—drops—of vital scarlet—
39 It did not surprise me— So I said—or thought— She will stir her pinions And the nest forgot,
78 A poor—torn heart—a tattered heart… That sat it down to rest— Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day Flowed silver to the West—
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,
643 I could suffice for Him, I knew— He—could suffice for Me— Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both Surveyed Infinity—
The Road was lit with Moon and st… The Trees were bright and still - Descried I - by the distant Ligh… A Traveller on a Hill - To magic Perpendiculars
138 Pigmy seraphs’—gone astray’— Velvet people from Vevay’— Balles from some lost summer day’— Bees exclusive Coterie’—