#AmericanWriters
132 I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching Next to mine, And summon them to drink;
763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years—
228 Blazing in Gold and quenching in… Leaping like Leopards to the Sky Then at the feet of the old Horiz… Laying her spotted Face to die
Two butterflies went out at noon And waltzed above a stream, Then stepped straight through the… And rested on a beam; And then together bore away
451 The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— ’Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood—
’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
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
663 Again—his voice is at the door— I feel the old Degree— I hear him ask the servant For such an one—as me—
340 Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot
“Houses”'—so the Wise Men tell me… Houses—so the Wise Men tell me— “Mansions”! Mansions must be warm… Mansions cannot let the tears in, Mansions must exclude the storm!
133 As Children bid the Guest “Good… And then reluctant turn— My flowers raise their pretty lips… Then put their nightgowns on.
705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –
LXVI WHEN I hoped I feared, Since I hoped I dared; Everywhere alone As a church remain;
The Road was lit with Moon and st… The Trees were bright and still - Descried I - by the distant Ligh… A Traveller on a Hill - To magic Perpendiculars
16 I would distil a cup, And bear to all my friends, Drinking to her no more astir, By beck, or burn, or moor!