#AmericanWriters
Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…
149 She went as quiet as the Dew From an Accustomed flower. Not like the Dew, did she return At the Accustomed hour!
464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—
893 Drab Habitation of Whom? Tabernacle or Tomb— Or Dome of Worm— Or Porch of Gnome—
224 I've nothing else—to bring, You k… So I keep bringing These— Just as the Night keeps fetching… To our familiar eyes—
The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.
316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—
Of Brussels—it was not— Of Kidderminster? Nay— The Winds did buy it of the Woods… They—sold it unto me It was a gentle price—
535 She’s happy, with a new Content— That feels to her—like Sacrament— She’s busy—with an altered Care— As just apprenticed to the Air—
The wind tapped like a tired man, And like a host, ‘Come in,’ I boldly answered; entered then My residence within A rapid, footless guest,
90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—
619 Glee—The great storm is over— Four—have recovered the Land— Forty gone down together— Into the boiling Sand.
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—
819 All I may, if small, Do it not display Larger for the Totalness— ’Tis Economy
XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.