#AmericanWriters
LXVII A DEED knocks first at thought, And then it knocks at will. That is the manufacturing spot, And will at home and well.
He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees, Prepares your brittle substance
“Arcturus” is his other name’— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere! I slew a worm the other day’—
275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life— Poured thee, without a stint—
FORBIDDEN fruit a flavor has That lawful orchards mocks; How luscious lies the pea within The pod that Duty locks!
565 One Anguish—in a Crowd— A Minor thing—it sounds— And yet, unto the single Doe Attempted of the Hounds
She sweeps with many-colored broom… And leaves the shreds behind; Oh, housewife in the evening west, Come back, and dust the pond! You dropped a purple ravelling in,
388 Take your Heaven further on— This—to Heaven divine Has gone— Had You earlier blundered in Possibly, e’en You had seen
411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—
111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—
To mend each tattered Faith There is a needle fair Though no appearance indicate ’Tis threaded in the Air And though it do not wear
292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve—
SUCCESS is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple host
710 The Sunrise runs for Both— The East—Her Purple Troth Keeps with the Hill— The Noon unwinds Her Blue
595 Like Mighty Foot Lights’—burned… At Bases of the Trees’— The far Theatricals of Day Exhibiting’—to These’—