#AmericanWriters
THE BAT is dun with wrinkled wi… Like fallow article, And not a song pervades his lips, Or none perceptible. His small umbrella, quaintly halve…
Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,
644 You left me—Sire—two Legacies— A Legacy of Love A Heavenly Father would suffice Had He the offer of—
661 Could I but ride indefinite As doth the Meadow Bee And visit only where I liked And No one visit me
933 Two Travellers perishing in Snow The Forests as they froze Together heard them strengthening Each other with the words
My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away— And now We roam in Sovereign Woo…
778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—
346 Not probable—The barest Chance— A smile too few—a word too much And far from Heaven as the Rest— The Soul so close on Paradise—
348 I would not paint — a picture — I'd rather be the One It's bright impossibility To dwell — delicious — on —
823 Not that We did, shall be the tes… When Act and Will are done But what Our Lord infers We woul… Had We diviner been—
131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
614 In falling Timbers buried— There breathed a Man— Outside—the spades—were plying— The Lungs—within—
921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.
XXXVII LOVE is anterior to life, Posterior to death, Initial of creation, and The exponent of breath.