#AmericanWriters
831 Dying! To be afraid of thee One must to thine Artillery Have left exposed a Friend— Than thine old Arrow is a Shot
LVII EXCEPT the heaven had come so n… So seemed to choose my door, The distance would not haunt me so… I had not hoped before.
I see thee better—in the Dark— I do not need a Light— The Love of Thee—a Prism be— Excelling Violet— I see thee better for the Years
There is no Silence in the Earth… As that endured Which uttered, would discourage N… And haunt the World.
101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?
They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…
312 Her—last Poems— Poets ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled Other,
859 A doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
748 Autumn—overlooked my Knitting— Dyes—said He—have I— Could disparage a Flamingo— Show Me them—said I—
649 Her Sweet turn to leave the Homes… Came the Darker Way— Carriages—Be Sure—and Guests—too… But for Holiday
784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—
76 Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses—past the headlands… Into deep Eternity—
759 He fought like those Who’ve nough… Bestowed Himself to Balls As One who for a further Life Had not a further Use—
721 Behind Me’—dips Eternity’— Before Me’—Immortality’— Myself’—the Term between’— Death but the Drift of Eastern G…
407 If What we could—were what we wou… Criterion—be small— It is the Ultimate of Talk— The Impotence to Tell—