Poetry is when an emotion has foun

Something inspires the only cow of
To make no more of a wall than an
And think no more of wall-builders
Her face is flecked with pomace an
A cider syrup. Having tasted frui

Snow falling and night falling fas
In a field I looked into going pa
And the ground almost covered smoo
But a few weeds and stubble showin
The woods around it have it—it is

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart

I found a dimpled spider, fat and
On a white heal-all, holding up a
Like a white piece of rigid satin
Assorted characters of death and b
Mixed ready to begin the morning r

It was long I lay
Awake that night
Wishing that night
Would name the hour
And tell me whether

It was too lonely for her there,
And too wild,
And since there were but two of th
And no child,
And work was little in the house,

Blood has been harder to dam back
Just when we think we have it impo
Behind new barrier walls (and let
It breaks away in some new kind of
We choose to say it is let loose b

A dented spider like a snow drop w
On a white Heal-all, holding up a
Like a white piece of lifeless sat
Saw ever curious eye so strange a
Portent in little, assorted death

THERE’S a patch of old snow in
That I should have guessed
Was a blow—away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.
It is speckled with grime as if