#AmericanWriters
157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—
407 If What we could—were what we wou… Criterion—be small— It is the Ultimate of Talk— The Impotence to Tell—
914 I cannot be ashamed Because I cannot see The love you offer— Magnitude
209 With thee, in the Desert— With thee in the thirst— With thee in the Tamarind wood— Leopard breathes—at last!
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—
682 'Twould ease — a Butterfly — Elate — a Bee — Thou'rt neither — Neither — thy capacity —
LXXIII I ’LL tell you how the sun rose,— A ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran.
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—
843 I made slow Riches but my Gain Was steady as the Sun And every Night, it numbered more Than the preceding One
410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—
81 We should not mind so small a flow… Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again.
872 As the Starved Maelstrom laps the… As the Vulture teased Forces the Broods in lonely Valle… As the Tiger eased
575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,
447 Could—I do more—for Thee— Wert Thou a Bumble Bee— Since for the Queen, have I— Nought but Bouquet?
Oh Shadow on the Grass, Art thou a Step or not? Go make thee fair my Candidate My nominated Heart - Oh Shadow on the Grass