#AmericanWriters
A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,
983 Ideals are the Fairly Oil With which we help the Wheel But when the Vital Axle turns The Eye rejects the Oil.
137 Flowers—Well—if anybody Can the ecstasy define— Half a transport—half a trouble— With which flowers humble men:
Of Brussels—it was not— Of Kidderminster? Nay— The Winds did buy it of the Woods… They—sold it unto me It was a gentle price—
965 Denial—is the only fact Perceived by the Denied— Whose Will—a numb significance— The Day the Heaven died—
999 Superfluous were the Sun When Excellence be dead He were superfluous every Day For every Day be said
944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn
Part One: Life LIII GOD gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me; I dare not eat it, though I starv…
’Twas Crisis—All the length had p… That dull—benumbing time There is in Fever or Event— And now the Chance had come— The instant holding in its claw
798 She staked her Feathers—Gained an… Debated—Rose again— This time—beyond the estimate Of Envy, or of Men—
863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—
March is the Month of Expectation… The things we do not know - The Persons of prognostication Are coming now - We try to show becoming firmness -
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—
621 I asked no other thing— No other—was denied— I offered Being—for it— The Mighty Merchant sneered—
The going from a world we know To one a wonder still Is like the child’s adversity Whose vista is a hill, Behind the hill is sorcery