#AmericanWriters
235 The Court is far away— No Umpire—have I— My Sovereign is offended— To gain his grace—I’d die!
995 This was in the White of the Year… That—was in the Green— Drifts were as difficult then to t… As Daisies now to be seen—
An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.
49 I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod. Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
504 You know that Portrait in the Moo… So tell me who ’tis like— The very Brow—the stooping eyes— A fog for—Say—Whose Sake?
721 Behind Me’—dips Eternity’— Before Me’—Immortality’— Myself’—the Term between’— Death but the Drift of Eastern G…
707 The Grace—Myself—might not obtain… Confer upon My flower— Refracted but a Countenance— For I—inhabit Her—
When Memory is full Put on the perfect Lid - This Morning’s finest syllable Presumptuous Evening said -
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
I felt a cleaving in my mind As if my brain had split; I tried to match it, seam by seam, But could not make them fit. The thought behind I strove to jo…
63 If pain for peace prepares Lo, what “Augustan” years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise,
19 A sepal, petal, and a thorn Upon a common summer’s morn— A flask of Dew—A Bee or two— A Breeze—a caper in the trees—