#AmericanWriters
123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.
92 My friend must be a Bird’— Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies!
321 Of all the Sounds despatched abro… There’s not a Charge to me Like that old measure in the Boug… That phraseless Melody—
697 I could bring You Jewels—had I a… But You have enough—of those— I could bring You Odors from St.… Colors—from Vera Cruz—
480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass
874 They won’t frown always—some sweet… When I forget to tease— They’ll recollect how cold I look… And how I just said “Please.”
“Morning”—means “Milking”—to the… Dawn—to the Teneriffe— Dice—to the Maid— Morning means just Risk—to the Lo… Just revelation—to the Beloved—
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
How slow the Wind - how slow the sea - how late their Fathers be!
FATE slew him, but he did not dr… She felled’—he did not fall’— Impaled him on her fiercest stakes… He neutralized them all. She stung him, sapped his firm adv…
376 Of Course—I prayed— And did God Care? He cared as much as on the Air A Bird—had stamped her foot—
472 Except the Heaven had come so nea… So seemed to choose My Door— The Distance would not haunt me s… I had not hoped—before—
660 ’Tis good—the looking back on Gri… To re-endure a Day— We thought the Mighty Funeral— Of All Conceived Joy—
105 To hang our head—ostensibly— And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind—
The Hills in Purple syllables The Day’s Adventures tell To little Groups of Continents Just going Home from School.
