#AmericanWriters
XXXI I FOUND the phrase to every tho… I ever had, but one; And that defies me,—as a hand Did try to chalk the sun
247 What would I give to see his face… I’d give—I’d give my life—of cour… But that is not enough! Stop just a minute—let me think!
864 The Robin for the Crumb Returns no syllable But long records the Lady’s name In Silver Chronicle.
76 Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses—past the headlands… Into deep Eternity—
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
7 The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go— The Crocus—til she rises The Vassal of the snow—
582 Inconceivably solemn! Things go gay Pierce—by the very Press Of Imagery—
626 Only God—detect the Sorrow— Only God— The Jehovahs—are no Babblers— Unto God—
886 These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude.
960 As plan for Noon and plan for Nig… So differ Life and Death In positive Prospective— The Foot upon the Earth
385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—
Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets,… Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman,
Renunciation—is a piercing Virtue… The letting go A Presence—for an Expectation— Not now— The putting out of Eyes—
990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—
45 There’s something quieter than sle… Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name.