#AmericanWriters
839 Always Mine! No more Vacation! Term of Light this Day begun! Failless as the fair rotation
A light exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here A color stands abroad
A Coffin—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—
763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years—
I dreaded that first robin so, But he is mastered now, And I’m accustomed to him grown,— He hurts a little, though. I thought if I could only live
339 I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—
599 There is a pain’—so utter’— It swallows substance up’— Then covers the Abyss with Trance… So Memory can step
54 If I should die, And you should live— And time should gurgle on— And morn should beam—
904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—
XXXIII 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
God permit industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one,—forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway. God calls home the angels promptly
VIII A wounded deer leaps highest, I ’ve heard the hunter tell; ’T is but the ecstasy of death, And then the brake is still.
391 A Visitor in Marl— Who influences Flowers— Till they are orderly as Busts— And Elegant—as Glass—
I felt a cleaving in my mind As if my brain had split; I tried to match it, seam by seam, But could not make them fit. The thought behind I strove to jo…
689 The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorous— We learned to like the Fire By playing Glaciers—when a Boy— And Tinder—guessed—by power