#AmericanWriters
When I see birches bend to left a… Across the lines of straighter dar… I like to think some boy’s been sw… But swinging doesn’t bend them dow… As ice-storms do. Often you must…
My long two-pointed ladder’s stick… Toward heaven still, And there’s a barrel that I didn’… Beside it, and there may be two or… Apples I didn’t pick upon some bo…
The old dog barks backwards withou… I can remember when he was a pup.
But outer Space, At least this far, For all the fuss Of the populace Stays more popular
THE BUZZ-SAW snarled and ratt… And made dust and dropped stove-le… Sweet-scented stuff when the breez… And from there those that lifted e… Five mountain ranges one behind th…
Here come the line-gang pioneering… They throw a forest down less cut… They plant dead trees for living,… They string together with a living… They string an instrument against…
A plow, they say, to plow the snow… They cannot mean to plant it, no— Unless in bitterness to mock At having cultivated rock.
I went to turn the grass once afte… Who mowed it in the dew before the… The dew was gone that made his bla… Before I came to view the levelle… I looked for him behind an isle of…
Two fairies it was On a still summer day Came forth in the woods With the flowers to play. The flowers they plucked
Out walking in the frozen swamp on… I paused and said, “I will turn b… No, I will go on farther—and we s… The hard snow held me, save where… One foot went through. The view w…
Abstraction is an old story with t… Granted no one but a humanist much… Then there is this wildness whereo… It should be of the pleasure of a… No tears in the writer, no tears i…
The land was ours before we were t… She was our land more than a hundr… Before we were her people. She wa… In Massachusetts, in Virginia, But we were England’s, still colo…
In going from room to room in the… I reached out blindly to save my f… But neglected, however lightly, to… My fingers and close my arms in an… A slim door got in past my guard,
Thine emulous fond flowers are dea… And the daft sun—assaulter, he That frighted thee so oft, is fled… Save only me (Nor is it sad to thee!)
It went many years, But at last came a knock, And I thought of the door With no lock to lock. I blew out the light,