#AmericanWriters
XIV SOME things that fly there be,— Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: Of these no elegy. Some things that stay there be,—
1100 The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
143 For every Bird a Nest— Wherefore in timid quest Some little Wren goes seeking rou… Wherefore when boughs are free—
174 At last, to be identified! At last, the lamps upon thy side The rest of Life to see! Past Midnight! Past the Morning…
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
XXV Wild nights—Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild nights should be Our luxury!
347 When Night is almost done— And Sunrise grows so near That we can touch the Spaces— It’s time to smooth the Hair—
204 A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky—
786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—
The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—
29 If those I loved were lost The Crier’s voice would tell me— If those I loved were found The bells of Ghent would ring—
1000 The Fingers of the Light Tapped soft upon the Town With “I am great and cannot wait So therefore let me in.”
834 Before He comes we weigh the Time… ’Tis Heavy and ’tis Light. When He depart, an Emptiness Is the prevailing Freight.