#AmericanWriters
The Sun kept setting—setting—stil… No Hue of Afternoon— Upon the Village I perceived From House to House ’twas Noon— The Dusk kept dropping—dropping—s…
37 Before the ice is in the pools— Before the skaters go, Or any check at nightfall Is tarnished by the snow—
873 Ribbons of the Year— Multitude Brocade— Worn to Nature’s Party once Then, as flung aside
592 What care the Dead, for Chanticle… What care the Dead for Day? ’Tis late your Sunrise vex their… And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning
24 There is a morn by men unseen— Whose maids upon remoter green Keep their Seraphic May— And all day long, with dance and g…
It’s like the light,— A fashionless delight It’s like the bee,— A dateless melody. It’s like the woods,
If ever the lid gets off my head And lets the brain away The fellow will go where he belong… Without a hint from me, And the world– if the world be lo…
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—
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,
If Nature smiles - the Mother mu… I’m sure, at many a whim Of Her eccentric Family - Is She so much to blame?
252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy
86 South Winds jostle them— Bumblebees come— Hover—hesitate— Dri nk, and are gone—
282 How noteless Men, and Pleiads, st… Until a sudden sky Reveals the fact that One is rapt Forever from the Eye—
525 I think the Hemlock likes to stan… Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe
We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,