#1928 #AmericanWriters #WestRunningBrook
I have been one acquainted with th… I have walked out in rain—and back… I have outwalked the furthest city… I have looked down the saddest cit… I have passed by the watchman on h…
The battle rent a cobweb diamond—s… And cut a flower beside a ground b… Before it stained a single human b… The stricken flower bent double an… And still the bird revisited her y…
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…
One thing has a shelving bank, Another a rotting plank, To give it cozier skies And make up for its lack of size. My own strategic retreat
Once when the snow of the year was… We stopped by a mountain pasture t… A little Morgan had one forefoot… The other curled at his breast. H… And snorted at us. And then he ha…
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…
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,…
The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hil… The graveyard draws the living sti… But never anymore the dead. The verses in it say and say:
A scent of ripeness from over a wa… And come to leave the routine road And look for what had made me stal… There sure enough was an apple tre… That had eased itself of its summe…
O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fal… To—morrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call;
I met a lady from the South who s… (You won’t believe she said it, bu… ‘None of my family ever worked, or… A thing to sell.’ I don’t suppose… Much matters. You may work for al…
One of my wishes is that those dar… So old and firm they scarcely show… Were not, as ’twere, the merest ma… But stretched away unto the edge o… I should not be withheld but that…
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…
He gave the solid rail a hateful k… From far away there came an answer… And then another tick. He knew th… His hate had roused an engine up t… He wished when he had had the trac…
Will the blight end the chestnut? The farmers rather guess not. It keeps smouldering at the roots And sending up new shoots Till another parasite