#AmericanWriters
855 To own the Art within the Soul The Soul to entertain With Silence as a Company And Festival maintain
Whose Pink career may have a clos… Portentous as our own, who knows? To imitate these Neighbors fleet In awe and innocence, were meet.
869 Because the Bee may blameless hum For Thee a Bee do I become List even unto Me. Because the Flowers unafraid
One need not be a chamber to be ha… One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place. Far safer, of a midnight meeting
428 Taking up the fair Ideal, Just to cast her down When a fracture—we discover— Or a splintered Crown—
150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—
675 Essential Oilsare wrung The Attar from the Rose Be not expressed by Sunsalone It is the gift of Screws
386 Answer July— Where is the Bee— Where is the Blush— Where is the Hay?
I never hear the word 'escape’ Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad
984 ’Tis Anguish grander than Delight ’Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again.
September’s Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets– Crows– and Retros… And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming -
27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.
852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.
The sky is low, the clouds are mea… A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day
323 As if I asked a common Alms, And in my wondering hand A Stranger pressed a Kingdom, And I, bewildered, stand—