#AmericanWriters
A clock stopped—not the mantel’s Geneva’s farthest skill Can’t put the puppet bowing That just now dangled still. An awe came on the trinket!
767 To offer brave assistance To Lives that stand alone— When One has failed to stop them— Is Human—but Divine
635 I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come— And we are waiting for the Coach— It seems as though the Time
230 We—Bee and I—live by the quaffing… ’Tisn’t all Hock—with us— Life has its Ale— But it’s many a lay of the Dim Bu…
822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone
34 Garland for Queens, may be— Laurels—for rare degree Of soul or sword. Ah—but remembering me—
A little Snow was here and there Disseminated in her Hair - Since she and I had met and playe… Decade had gathered to Decade - But Time had added not obtained
Like trains of cars on tracks of p… I hear the level bee: A jar across the flowers goes, Their velvet masonry Withstands until the sweet assault
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
Going to him! Happy letter! Tell… Tell him the page I didn’t write; Tell him I only said the syntax, And left the verb and the pronoun… Tell him just how the fingers hurr…
519 ’Twas warm—at first—like Us— Until there crept upon A Chill—like frost upon a Glass— Till all the scene—be gone.
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
909 I make His Crescent fill or lack— His Nature is at Full Or Quarter—as I signify— His Tides—do I control—
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…