#AmericanWriters
463 I live with Him — I see His face… I go no more away For Visitor — or Sundown — Death's single privacy
It is an honorable thought, And makes one lift one’s hat, As one encountered gentlefolk Upon a daily street, That we’ve immortal place,
LXXXIX A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just
451 The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— 'Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood—
106 The Daisy follows soft the Sun— And when his golden walk is done— Sits shyly at his feet— He—waking—finds the flower there—
59 A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard—
854 Banish Air from Air— Divide Light if you dare— They’ll meet While Cubes in a Drop
To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
995 This was in the White of the Year… That—was in the Green— Drifts were as difficult then to t… As Daisies now to be seen—
XXXIX I MEANT to have but modest need… Such as content, and heaven; Within my income these could lie, And life and I keep even.
Exhilaration is the Breeze That lifts us from the Ground And leaves us in another place Whose statement is not found - Returns us not, but after time
471 A Night—there lay the Days betwee… The Day that was Before— And Day that was Behind—were one— And now—'twas Night—was here—
347 When Night is almost done— And Sunrise grows so near That we can touch the Spaces— It’s time to smooth the Hair—
187 How many times these low feet stag… Only the soldered mouth can tell— Try—can you stir the awful rivet— Try—can you lift the hasps of stee…
A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.