#AmericanWriters
Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!
128 Bring me the sunset in a cup, Reckon the morning’s flagons up And say how many Dew, Tell me how far the morning leaps—
221 It can’t be “Summer”! That—got through! It’s early—yet—for “Spring”! There’s that long town of White—t…
I never hear the word 'escape’ Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad
If I can stop one heart from brea… I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching… Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin
884 As Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land.
My Garden’—like the Beach’— Denotes there be’—a Sea’— That’s Summer’— Such as These’—the Pearls She fetches’—such as Me
Lightly stepped a yellow star To its lofty place - Loosed the Moon her silver hat From her lustral Face - All of Evening softly lit
574 My first well Day — since many il… I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands… And see the things in Pod —
672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—
LXII BEFORE I got my eye put out, I liked as well to see As other creatures that have eyes, And know no other way.
I saw the wind within her I knew it blew for me '— But she must buy my shelter I asked Humility
78 A poor—torn heart—a tattered heart… That sat it down to rest— Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day Flowed silver to the West—
902 The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it—How still— That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it—as well—
483 A Solemn thing within the Soul To feel itself get ripe— And golden hang—while farther up— The Maker’s Ladders stop—