#AmericanWriters
VII WITHIN my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered through the village…
11 I never told the buried gold Upon the hill—that lies— I saw the sun—his plunder done Crouch low to guard his prize.
10 My wheel is in the dark! I cannot see a spoke Yet know its dripping feet Go round and round.
Those fair—fictitious People— The Women—plucked away From our familiar Lifetime— The Men of Ivory— Those Boys and Girls, in Canvas—
117 In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go— Veiling the purple, and the plumes… Veiling the ermine so.
The Snow that never drifts - The transient, fragrant snow That comes a single time a Year Is softly driving now - So thorough in the Tree
20 Distrustful of the Gentian— And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy—
837 How well I knew Her not Whom not to know has been A Bounty in prospective, now Next Door to mine the Pain.
I never saw a moor; I never saw the sea, Yet know I how the heather looks And what a billow be. I never spoke with God,
98 One dignity delays for all— One mitred Afternoon— None can avoid this purple— None evade this Crown!
422 More Life—went out—when He went Than Ordinary Breath— Lit with a finer Phosphor— Requiring in the Quench—
178 I cautious, scanned my little life… I winnowed what would fade From what would last till Heads l… Should be a-dreaming laid.
550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then
859 A doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
MINE enemy is growing old, I have at last revenge. The palate of the hate departs; If any would avenge, Let him be quick, the viand flits,