#AmericanWriters
178 I cautious, scanned my little life… I winnowed what would fade From what would last till Heads l… Should be a-dreaming laid.
48 Once more, my now bewildered Dove Bestirs her puzzled wings Once more her mistress, on the dee… Her troubled question flings—
The going from a world we know To one a wonder still Is like the child’s adversity Whose vista is a hill, Behind the hill is sorcery
951 As Frost is best conceived By force of its Result— Affliction is inferred By subsequent effect—
The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land,
468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—
718 I meant to find Her when I came— Death—had the same design— But the Success—was His—it seems— And the Surrender—Mine—
930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed
38 By such and such an offering To Mr. So and So, The web of live woven— So martyrs albums show!
966 All forgot for recollecting Just a paltry One— All forsook, for just a Stranger’… New Accompanying—
A Word dropped careless on a Page May stimulate an eye When folded in perpetual seam The Wrinkled Maker lie Infection in the sentence breeds
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
548 Death is potential to that Man Who dies—and to his friend— Beyond that—unconspicuous To Anyone but God—
308 I send Two Sunsets— Day and I—in competition ran— I finished Two—and several Stars— While He—was making One—
LXIII Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair.