#AmericanWriters
316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—
1763 Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.
I saw the wind within her I knew it blew for me '— But she must buy my shelter I asked Humility
7 The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go— The Crocus—til she rises The Vassal of the snow—
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
Me prove it now—Whoever doubt Me stop to prove it—now— Make haste—the Scruple! Death be… For Opportunity— The River reaches to my feet—
12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.
464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—
979 This Merit hath the worst— It cannot be again— When Fate hath taunted last And thrown Her furthest Stone—
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…
63 If pain for peace prepares Lo, what “Augustan” years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise,
The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land,
CXXVIII I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm.
To the bright east she flies, Brothers of Paradise Remit her home, Without a change of wings, Or Love’s convenient things,
XL THE thought beneath so slight a f… Is more distinctly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.