#AmericanWriters
131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—
123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.
357 God is a distant—stately Lover— Woos, as He states us—by His Son… Verily, a Vicarious Courtship— “Miles”, and “Priscilla”, were su…
922 Those who have been in the Grave… Those who begin Today— Equally perish from our Practise— Death is the other way—
871 The Sun and Moon must make their… The Stars express around For in the Zones of Paradise The Lord alone is burned—
251 Over the fence— Strawberries—grow— Over the fence— I could climb—if I tried, I know—
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
416 A Murmur in the Trees—to note— Not loud enough—for Wind— A Star—not far enough to seek— Nor near enough—to find—
100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold
A little Snow was here and there Disseminated in her Hair - Since she and I had met and playe… Decade had gathered to Decade - But Time had added not obtained
XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.
305 The difference between Despair And Fear—is like the One Between the instant of a Wreck And when the Wreck has been—
69 Low at my problem bending, Another problem comes— Larger than mine—Serener— Involving statelier sums.
I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town, And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down. And then they grew so jolly
728 Let Us play Yesterday— I—the Girl at school— You—and Eternity—the Untold Tale—