#AmericanWriters
717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—
873 Ribbons of the Year— Multitude Brocade— Worn to Nature’s Party once Then, as flung aside
We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,
193 I shall know why — when Time is o… And I have ceased to wonder why — Christ will explain each separate… In the fair schoolroom of the sky…
71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—
GLEE! the great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation!
542 I had no Cause to be awake— My Best—was gone to sleep— And Morn a new politeness took— And failed to wake them up—
116 I had some things that I called m… And God, that he called his, Till, recently a rival Claim Disturbed these amities.
152 The Sun kept stooping—stooping—lo… The Hills to meet him rose! On his side, what Transaction! On their side, what Repose!
567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame—
A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky— A little purple—slipped between—
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
“Why do I love” You, Sir? Because’— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer’—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place.
461 A Wife—at daybreak I shall be— Sunrise—Hast thou a Flag for me? At Midnight, I am but a Maid, How short it takes to make a Brid…
675 Essential Oilsare wrung The Attar from the Rose Be not expressed by Sunsalone It is the gift of Screws