#AmericanWriters
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn't hurt— It's only fainter—by degrees— And then—it's out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—
339 I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—
MINE by the right of the white e… Mine by the royal seal! Mine by the sign in the scarlet pr… Bars cannot conceal! Mine, here in vision and in veto!
921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.
500 Within my Garden, rides a Bird Upon a single Wheel— Whose spokes a dizzy Music make As ’twere a travelling Mill—
612 It would have starved a Gnat— To live so small as I— And yet I was a living Child— With Food’s necessity
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
225 Jesus! thy Crucifix Enable thee to guess The smaller size! Jesus! thy second face
FATE slew him, but he did not dr… She felled’—he did not fall’— Impaled him on her fiercest stakes… He neutralized them all. She stung him, sapped his firm adv…
824 [first version] The Wind begun to knead the Grass… As Women do a Dough— He flung a Hand full at the Plain…
XXI HE ate and drank the precious wor… His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust.
Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.
407 If What we could—were what we wou… Criterion—be small— It is the Ultimate of Talk— The Impotence to Tell—
15 The Guest is gold and crimson— An Opal guest and gray— Of Ermine is his doublet— His Capuchin gay—