#AmericanWriters
733 The Spirit is the Conscious Ear. We actually Hear When We inspect—that’s audible— That is admitted—Here—
933 Two Travellers perishing in Snow The Forests as they froze Together heard them strengthening Each other with the words
The Sun kept setting—setting—stil… No Hue of Afternoon— Upon the Village I perceived From House to House ’twas Noon— The Dusk kept dropping—dropping—s…
After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,— Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged,
I bet with every Wind that blew Till Nature in chagrin Employed a Fact to visit me And scuttle my Balloon -
On this wondrous sea Sailing silently, Ho! Pilot, ho! Knowest thou the shore Where no breakers roar—
LXIII Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair.
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
527 To put this World down, like a Bu… And walk steady, away, Requires Energy—possibly Agony— ’Tis the Scarlet way
66 So from the mould Scarlet and Gold Many a Bulb will rise— Hidden away, cunningly, From saga…
I dreaded that first robin so, But he is mastered now, And I’m accustomed to him grown,— He hurts a little, though. I thought if I could only live
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
866 Fame is the tine that Scholars le… Upon their Setting Names— The Iris not of Occident That disappears as comes—
229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near
They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…