#AmericanWriters
To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
I had been hungry all the years– My noon had come, to dine– I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. ‘T was this on tables I had seen
890 From Us She wandered now a Year, Her tarrying, unknown, If Wilderness prevent her feet Or that Ethereal Zone
637 The Child’s faith is new— Whole—like His Principle— Wide—like the Sunrise On fresh Eyes—
432 Do People moulder equally, They bury, in the Grave? I do believe a Species As positively live
594 The Battle fought between the Sou… And No Man—is the One Of all the Battles prevalent— By far the Greater One—
301 I reason, Earth is short— And Anguish—absolute— And many hurt, But, what of that?
282 How noteless Men, and Pleiads, st… Until a sudden sky Reveals the fact that One is rapt Forever from the Eye—
XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
381 A Secret told— Ceases to be a Secret—then— A Secret—kept— That—can appal but One—
481 The Himmaleh was known to stoop Unto the Daisy low— Transported with Compassion That such a Doll should grow
I never hear the word 'escape’ Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad
The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.
Sometimes with the Heart Seldom with the Soul Scarcer once with the Might Few - love at all.