#AmericanWriters
823 Not that We did, shall be the tes… When Act and Will are done But what Our Lord infers We woul… Had We diviner been—
298 Alone, I cannot be— For Hosts—do visit me— Recordless Company— Who baffle Key—
A chilly Peace infests the Grass The Sun respectful lies - Not any Trance of industry These shadows scrutinize - Whose Allies go no more astray
197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!
High from the earth I heard a bir… He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then he spied a breeze, And situated softly
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—
958 We met as Sparks—Diverging Flint… Sent various—scattered ways— We parted as the Central Flint Were cloven with an Adze—
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—
659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—
I never hear the word 'escape’ Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad
485 To make One’s Toilette—after Dea… Has made the Toilette cool Of only Taste we cared to please Is difficult, and still—
601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—