#1928 #AmericanWriters #WestRunningBrook
When a friend calls to me from the… And slows his horse to a meaning w… I don’t stand still and look aroun… On all the hills I haven’t hoed, And shout from where I am, What i…
There overtook me and drew me in To his down-hill, early-morning st… And set me five miles on my road Better than if he had had me ride, A man with a swinging bag for load
I said to myself almost in prayer, It will start hair raising current… When you give it the livid metal-s… It will make a homicidal roar. It will shake its cast stone reef…
Out alone in the winter rain, Intent on giving and taking pain. But never was I far out of sight Of a certain upper-window light. The light was what it was all abou…
The house had gone to bring again To the midnight sky a sunset glow. Now the chimney was all of the hou… Like a pistil after the petals go The barn opposed across the way,
Was there even a cause too lost, Ever a cause that was lost too lon… Or that showed with the lapse of t… For the generous tears of youth an…
I advocate a semi-revolution. The trouble with a total revolutio… (Ask any reputable Rosicrucian) Is that it brings the same class u… Executives of skillful execution
I’m going out to clean the pasture… I’ll only stop to rake the leaves… (And wait to watch the water clear… I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come… I’m going out to fetch the little…
`You know Orion always comes up s… Throwing a leg up over our fence o… And rising on his hands, he looks… Busy outdoors by lantern—light wit… I should have done by daylight, an…
I slumbered with your poems on my… Spread open as I dropped them hal… Like dove wings on a figure on a t… To see, if in a dream they brought… I might not have the chance I mis…
I stay; But it isn’t as if There wasn’t always Hudson’s Bay And the fur trade, A small skiff
The line-storm clouds fly tattered… The road is forlorn all day, Where a myriad snowy quartz stones… And the hoof-prints vanish away. The roadside flowers, too wet for…
Here’s first a gloveless hand warm… A perch and resting place ’twixt w… Bright-black-eyed silvery creature… The wings not folded in repose, bu… (Who would you be, I wonder, by t…
To think to know the country and n… The hillside on the day the sun le… Ten million silver lizards out of… As often as I’ve seen it done bef… I can’t pretend to tell the way it…
When the wind works against us in… And pelts with snow The lowest chamber window on the e… And whispers with a sort of stifle… The beast,