#AmericanWriters
556 The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly—and true— But let a Splinter swerve— ’Twere easier for You—
No brigadier throughout the year So civic as the jay. A neighbor and a warrior too, With shrill felicity Pursuing winds that censure us
455 Triumph—may be of several kinds— There’s Triumph in the Room When that Old Imperator—Death— By Faith
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—
122 A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon—
A Wind that rose Though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred But with itself did cold engage Beyond the Realm of Bird -
886 These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude.
37 Before the ice is in the pools— Before the skaters go, Or any check at nightfall Is tarnished by the snow—
753 My Soul—accused me—And I quailed… As Tongue of Diamond had reviled All else accused me—and I smiled— My Soul—that Morning—was My frie…
385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—
XXIII A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw.
Remorse– is Memory– awake - Her Parties all astir - A Presence of Departed Acts - At window– and at Door – Its Past - set down before the S…
A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard— Till morning touching mountain—
884 As Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land.
423 The Months have ends—the Years—a… No Power can untie To stretch a little further A Skein of Misery—