#AmericanWriters
659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—
Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
342 It will be Summer—eventually. Ladies—with parasols— Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes— And little Girls—with Dolls—
Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
XXVII BECAUSE I could not stop for D… He kindly stopped for me— The Carriage held but just Oursel… And Immortality.
292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve—
22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—
41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses
805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—
A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass…
A Counterfeit– a Plated Person… I would not be - Whatever strata of Iniquity My Nature underlie - Truth is good Health - and Safet…
A little Snow was here and there Disseminated in her Hair - Since she and I had met and playe… Decade had gathered to Decade - But Time had added not obtained
’Twas comfort in her Dying Room To hear the living Clock— A short relief to have the wind Walk boldly up and knock— Diversion from the Dying Theme
VIII A wounded deer leaps highest, I ’ve heard the hunter tell; ’T is but the ecstasy of death, And then the brake is still.