#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—
913 And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning ros… Early and sere, its end
LXXXV A LIGHT exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here
912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.
99 New feet within my garden go— New fingers stir the sod— A Troubadour upon the Elm Betrays the solitude.
XLIII I LIKE to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step
470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—
181 I lost a World - the other day! Has Anybody found? You’ll know it by the Row of Star… Around its forehead bound.
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
I DIED for beauty, but was scarc… Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—
65 I can’t tell you—but you feel it— Nor can you tell me— Saints, with ravished slate and pe… Solve our April Day!
III SOUL, wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost, indeed, But tens have won an all.
547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seem… Then Cloudier become—
993 We miss Her, not because We see— The Absence of an Eye— Except its Mind accompany Abridge Society