#AmericanWriters
130 These are the days when Birds com… A very few—a Bird or two— To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resu…
XCIX THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry.
LXVI WHEN I hoped I feared, Since I hoped I dared; Everywhere alone As a church remain;
423 The Months have ends—the Years—a… No Power can untie To stretch a little further A Skein of Misery—
A light exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here A color stands abroad
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
869 Because the Bee may blameless hum For Thee a Bee do I become List even unto Me. Because the Flowers unafraid
301 I reason, Earth is short— And Anguish—absolute— And many hurt, But, what of that?
A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky— A little purple—slipped between—
775 If Blame be my side’—forfeit Me’— But doom me not to forfeit Thee’— To forfeit Thee? The very name Is sentence from Belief’—and Hous…
506 He touched me, so I live to know That such a day, permitted so, I groped upon his breast— It was a boundless place to me
Spring comes on the World - I sight the Aprils - Hueless to me until thou come As, till the Bee Blossoms stand negative,
189 It’s such a little thing to weep— So short a thing to sigh— And yet—by Trades—the size of the… We men and women die!
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— He danced along the dingy Days
110 Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year!