#AmericanWriters
It dropped so low—in my Regard— I heard it hit the Ground— And go to pieces on the Stones At bottom of my Mind— Yet blamed the Fate that flung it…
An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.
632 The Brain—is wider than the Sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will contain With ease—and You—beside—
I bet with every Wind that blew Till Nature in chagrin Employed a Fact to visit me And scuttle my Balloon -
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory! From marshallings as simple
That only lasts an hour How much '— how little '— is Within our power
707 The Grace—Myself—might not obtain… Confer upon My flower— Refracted but a Countenance— For I—inhabit Her—
677 To be alive’—is Power’— Existence’—in itself’— Without a further function’— Omnipotence’—Enough’—
LXXIII I ’LL tell you how the sun rose,— A ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran.
517 He parts Himself’—like Leaves’— And then’—He closes up’— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup’—
I saw the wind within her I knew it blew for me '— But she must buy my shelter I asked Humility
To mend each tattered Faith There is a needle fair Though no appearance indicate ’Tis threaded in the Air And though it do not wear
424 Removed from Accident of Loss By Accident of Gain Befalling not my simple Days— Myself had just to earn—
229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,