#AmericanWriters
308 I send Two Sunsets— Day and I—in competition ran— I finished Two—and several Stars— While He—was making One—
497 He strained my faith— Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust— Did it then—yield?
Between My Country—and the Other… There is a Sea— But Flowers—negotiate between us— As Ministry.
421 A Charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld— The Lady dare not lift her Veil For fear it be dispelled—
90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—
483 A Solemn thing within the Soul To feel itself get ripe— And golden hang—while farther up— The Maker’s Ladders stop—
One need not be a chamber to be ha… One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place. Far safer, of a midnight meeting
310 Give little Anguish— Lives will fret— Give Avalanches— And they’ll slant—
These Fevered Days—to take them t… Where Waters cool around the moss… And shade is all that devastates t… Seems it sometimes this would be a…
553 One Crucifixion is recorded’—only… How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics’— Or History’—
1540 As imperceptibly as Grief The Summer lapsed away— Too imperceptible at last To seem like Perfidy—
945 This is a Blossom of the Brain— A small—italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified—
183 I’ve heard an Organ talk, sometim… In a Cathedral Aisle, And understood no word it said— Yet held my breath, the while—
The Work of Her that went, The Toil of Fellows done - In Ovens green our Mother bakes, By Fires of the Sun.