#AmericanWriters
On my volcano grows the Grass A meditative spot - An acre for a Bird to choose Would be the General thought - How red the Fire rocks below -
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…
364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—
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—
381 A Secret told— Ceases to be a Secret—then— A Secret—kept— That—can appal but One—
XII I ASKED no other thing, No other was denied. I offered Being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.
XXX WE play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool.
His Heart was darker than the sta… For that there is a morn But in this black Receptacle Can be no Bode of Dawn
I hide myself within my flower, That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too - And angels know the rest. I hide myself within my flower,
A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky— A little purple—slipped between—
942 Snow beneath whose chilly softness Some that never lay Make their first Repose this Wint… I admonish Thee
Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather
483 A Solemn thing within the Soul To feel itself get ripe— And golden hang—while farther up— The Maker’s Ladders stop—
805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—
Declaiming Waters none may dread… But Waters that are still Are so for that most fatal cause In Nature– they are full –
