#AmericanWriters
The sky is low, the clouds are mea… A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day
Abraham to kill him Was distinctly told’— Isaac was an Urchin’— Abraham was old’— Not a hesitation’—
781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—
836 Truth — is as old as God — His Twin identity And will endure as long as He A Co-Eternity —
If I can stop one heart from brea… I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching… Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin
720 No Prisoner be— Where Liberty— Himself—abide with Thee—
111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.
LXXIII I ’LL tell you how the sun rose,— A ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran.
I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way — And so I deck, a little, If it be, I wake a Bourbon,
656 The name—of it—is “Autumn”— The hue—of it—is Blood— An Artery—upon the Hill— A Vein—along the Road—
659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—
LXVII Presentment is that long shadow on… Indicative that suns go down; The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.
897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.
644 You left me—Sire—two Legacies— A Legacy of Love A Heavenly Father would suffice Had He the offer of—