#AmericanWriters
Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—
423 The Months have ends—the Years—a… No Power can untie To stretch a little further A Skein of Misery—
837 How well I knew Her not Whom not to know has been A Bounty in prospective, now Next Door to mine the Pain.
Warm in her Hand these accents li… While faithful and afar The Grace so awkward for her sake Its fond subjection wear -
No matter—now—Sweet— But when I’m Earl— Won’t you wish you’d spoken To that dull Girl? Trivial a Word—just—
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
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,
XXXI I FOUND the phrase to every tho… I ever had, but one; And that defies me,—as a hand Did try to chalk the sun
GLEE! the great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation!
201 Two swimmers wrestled on the spar— Until the morning sun— When One—turned smiling to the la… Oh God! the Other One!
938 Fairer through Fading—as the Day Into the Darkness dips away— Half Her Complexion of the Sun— Hindering—Haunting—Perishing—
The Butterfly’s Assumption Gown In Chrysoprase Apartments hung This afternoon put on— How condescending to descend And be of Buttercups the friend
Not Sickness stains the Brave, Nor any Dart, Nor Doubt of Scene to come, But an adjourning Heart -
624 Forever—it composed of Nows— ’Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home—
450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s bett… If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn—