#1928 #AmericanWriters #WestRunningBrook
A stolen lady was coming on board, But whether stolen from her wedded… Or from her own self against her w… Was not set forth in the lading bi… A stolen lady was all it said.
Inscription for a Garden Wall Winds blow the open grassy places… But where this old wall burns a su… They eddy over it too toppling wea… To blow the earth or anything self…
No, I had set no prohibiting sign… And yes, my land was hardly fenced… Nevertheless the land was mine: I was being trespassed on and agai… Whoever the surly freedom took
We make ourselves a place apart Behind light words that tease and… But oh, the agitated heart Till someone find us really out. ’Tis pity if the case require
No speed of wind or water rushing… But you have speed far greater. Y… Back up a stream of radiance to th… And back through history up the st… And you were given this swiftness,…
Age saw two quiet children Go loving by at twilight, He knew not whether homeward, Or outward from the village, Or (chimes were ringing) churchwar…
When the wind works against us in… And pelts with snow The lowest chamber window on the e… And whispers with a sort of stifle… The beast,
I stole forth dimly in the drippin… Between two downpours to see what… And a masked moon had spread down… To a cone mountain in the midnight… As if the final estimate were hers…
NOW that they’ve got it settled w… I’m going to tell them something t… They’ve got it settled wrong, and… Flattered I must be to have two t… To make a present of me to each ot…
I’ve known ere now an interfering… Of alder catch my lifted axe behin… But that was in the woods, to hold… From striking at another alder’s r… And that was, as I say, an alder…
From where I lingered in a lull i… outside the sugar-house one night… I called the fireman with a carefu… And bade him leave the pan and sto… ‘O fireman, give the fire another…
What things for dream there are wh… Moving amond tall haycocks lightly… I enter alone upon the stubbled fi… From which the laborers’ voices la… And in the antiphony of afterglow
Wind the season-climate mixer In my Witches’ Weather Primer Says to make this Fall Elixir First you let the summer simmer, Using neither spoon nor skimmer,
The line-storm clouds fly tattered… The road is forlorn all day, Where a myriad snowy quartz stones… And the hoof-prints vanish away. The roadside flowers, too wet for…
They leave us so to the way we too…