#AmericanWriters
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
13 Sleep is supposed to be By souls of sanity The shutting of the eye. Sleep is the station grand
138 Pigmy seraphs’—gone astray’— Velvet people from Vevay’— Balles from some lost summer day’— Bees exclusive Coterie’—
XIV I’M ceded, I ’ve stopped being th… The name they dropped upon my face With water, in the country church, Is finished using now,
Part Five: The Single Hound XLIX The duties of the Wind are few— To cast the ships, at Sea, Establish March, the Floods escor…
363 I went to thank Her— But She Slept— Her Bed—a funneled Stone— With Nosegays at the Head and Fo…
56 If I should cease to bring a Rose Upon a festal day, ‘Twill be because beyond the Rose I have been called away—
772 The hallowing of Pain Like hallowing of Heaven, Obtains at a corporeal cost— The Summit is not given
454 It was given to me by the Gods— When I was a little Girl— They given us Presents most—you k… When we are new—and small.
753 My Soul—accused me—And I quailed… As Tongue of Diamond had reviled All else accused me—and I smiled— My Soul—that Morning—was My frie…
8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables
XI MUCH madness is divinest sense To a discerning eye; Much sense the starkest madness. ’T is the majority
266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!
Nature rarer uses Yellow Than another Hue. Saves she all of that for Sunsets Prodigal of Blue Spending Scarlet, like a Woman
392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—