#AmericanWriters
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
776 The Color of a Queen, is this— The Color of a Sun At setting—this and Amber— Beryl—and this, at Noon—
787 Such is the Force of Happiness— The Least—can lift a Ton Assisted by its stimulus— Who Misery—sustain—
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.
316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—
711 Strong Draughts of Their Refresh… To drink—enables Mine Through Desert or the Wilderness As bore it Sealed Wine—
Warm in her Hand these accents li… While faithful and afar The Grace so awkward for her sake Its fond subjection wear -
The Wind took up the Northern Th… And piled them in the south - Then gave the East unto the West And opening his mouth The four Divisions of the Earth
I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come,
220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?
It dropped so low—in my Regard— I heard it hit the Ground— And go to pieces on the Stones At bottom of my Mind— Yet blamed the Fate that flung it…
178 I cautious, scanned my little life… I winnowed what would fade From what would last till Heads l… Should be a-dreaming laid.
457 Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—House… Sealed so stately tight— Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble— Locking Bare feet out—
