#AmericanWriters
A light exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here A color stands abroad
’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away! ’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
107 ’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away!
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
A Wind that rose Though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred But with itself did cold engage Beyond the Realm of Bird -
16 I would distil a cup, And bear to all my friends, Drinking to her no more astir, By beck, or burn, or moor!
Luck is not chance It’s Toil Fortune’s expensive smile Is earned The Father of the Mine
128 Bring me the sunset in a cup, Reckon the morning’s flagons up And say how many Dew, Tell me how far the morning leaps—
899 Herein a Blossom lies— A Sepulchre, between— Cross it, and overcome the Bee— Remain—'tis but a Rind.
753 My Soul—accused me—And I quailed… As Tongue of Diamond had reviled All else accused me—and I smiled— My Soul—that Morning—was My frie…
442 God made a little Gentian— It tried—to be a Rose— And failed—and all the Summer lau… But just before the Snows
958 We met as Sparks—Diverging Flint… Sent various—scattered ways— We parted as the Central Flint Were cloven with an Adze—
They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…
714 Rest at Night The Sun from shining, Nature—and some Men— Rest at Noon—some Men—
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—
