#AmericanWriters
597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering—
21 We lose’—because we win’— Gamblers’—recollecting which Toss their dice again!
634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—
277 What if I say I shall not wait! What if I burst the fleshly Gate— And pass escaped—to thee! What if I file this Mortal—off—
968 Fitter to see Him, I may be For the long Hindrance—Grace—to… With Summers, and with Winters, g… Some passing Year—A trait bestow
527 To put this World down, like a Bu… And walk steady, away, Requires Energy—possibly Agony— ’Tis the Scarlet way
663 Again—his voice is at the door— I feel the old Degree— I hear him ask the servant For such an one—as me—
224 I've nothing else—to bring, You k… So I keep bringing These— Just as the Night keeps fetching… To our familiar eyes—
730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—
763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years—
A door just opened on a street— I, lost, was passing by— An instant’s width of warmth discl… And wealth, and company. The door as sudden shut, and I,
302 Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done— Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June
They say that ‘time assuages,’— Time never did assuage; An actual suffering strengthens, As sinews do, with age. Time is a test of trouble,
761 From Blank to Blank— A Threadless Way I pushed Mechanic feet— To stop—or perish—or advance—
He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees, Prepares your brittle substance