#AmericanWriters
861 Split the Lark—and you’ll find th… Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled… Scantilly dealt to the Summer Mor… Saved for your Ear when Lutes be…
Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird —reach it! Curve by Curve —Sweep by Sweep — Round the Steep Air — Danger! What is that to Her?
63 If pain for peace prepares Lo, what “Augustan” years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise,
My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away— And now We roam in Sovereign Woo…
35 Nobody knows this little Rose— It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee.
45 There’s something quieter than sle… Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name.
253 You see I cannot see—your lifetim… I must guess— How many times it ache for me—toda… How many times for my far sake
179 If I could bribe them by a Rose I’d bring them every flower that g… From Amherst to Cashmere! I would not stop for night, or sto…
I breathed enough to learn the tri… And now, removed from air, I simulate the breath so well, That one, to be quite sure The lungs are stirless, must desce…
The Work of Her that went, The Toil of Fellows done - In Ovens green our Mother bakes, By Fires of the Sun.
Sometimes with the Heart Seldom with the Soul Scarcer once with the Might Few - love at all.
Is it too late to touch you, Dear… We this moment knew - Love Marine and Love terrene - Love celestial too -
491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood
668 “Nature” is what we see— The Hill—the Afternoon— Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee— Nay—Nature is Heaven—
Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.