#1916 #AmericanWriters #MountainInterval
A governor it was proclaimed this… When all who would come seeking in… Ancestral memories might come toge… And those of the name Stark gathe… A rock-strewn town where farming h…
Some of you will be glad I did wh… And the rest won’t want to punish… For finding a thing to do that tho… Yet wasn’t enjoined and wasn’t exp… To punish me over cruelly wouldn’t…
Seek not in me the big I capital, Not yet the little dotted in me se… If I have in me any I at all, 'Tis the iota subscript of the Gr… So small am I as an attention beg…
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
It is getting dark and time he dre… But the blizzard blinds him to any… The storm gets down his neck in an… That sucks his breath like a wicke… The snow blows on him and off him,…
To Ridgely Torrence On Last Looking into His 'Hesper… I often see flowers from a passing… That are gone before I can tell w… I want to get out of the train and…
Lovers, forget your love, And list to the love of these, She a window flower, And he a winter breeze. When the frosty window veil
'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 felt the chill of the meadow und… But the sun overhead; And snatches of verse and song of… I sung or said. I skirted the margin alders for mi…
I’ve known ere now an interfering… Of alder catch my lifted axe behin… But that was in the woods, to hold… From striking at another alder’s r… And that was, as I say, an alder…
‘Fred, where is north?’ ‘North? North is there, my love. The brook runs west.’ ‘West—running Brook then call it.… (West—Running Brook men call it t…
Her Word One ought not to have to care So much as you and I Care when the birds come round the… To seem to say good—bye;
I Dwell in a lonely house I know That vanished many a summer ago, And left no trace but the cellar w… And a cellar in which the daylight… And the purple-stemmed wild raspbe…
The people along the sand All turn and look one way. They turn their back on the land. They look at the sea all day. As long as it takes to pass
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…