#AmericanWriters
814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.
Renunciation—is a piercing Virtue… The letting go A Presence—for an Expectation— Not now— The putting out of Eyes—
99 New feet within my garden go— New fingers stir the sod— A Troubadour upon the Elm Betrays the solitude.
The wind tapped like a tired man, And like a host, ‘Come in,’ I boldly answered; entered then My residence within A rapid, footless guest,
206 The Flower must not blame the Bee… That seeketh his felicity Too often at her door— But teach the Footman from Vevay—
110 Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year!
XXXIX I MEANT to have but modest need… Such as content, and heaven; Within my income these could lie, And life and I keep even.
Sometimes with the Heart Seldom with the Soul Scarcer once with the Might Few - love at all.
543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—
35 Nobody knows this little Rose— It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee.
197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
You said that I “was Great”'—one… Then “Great” it be’—if that pleas… Or Small’—or any size at all’— Nay’—I’m the size suit Thee’— Tall’—like the Stag’—would that?
XLII SURGEONS must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the culprit,—Life!
614 In falling Timbers buried— There breathed a Man— Outside—the spades—were plying— The Lungs—within—