#AmericanWriters
897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.
643 I could suffice for Him, I knew— He—could suffice for Me— Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both Surveyed Infinity—
144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.
XXXIII DARE you see a soul at the white… Then crouch within the door. Red is the fire’s common tint; But when the vivid ore
The nearest dream recedes, unreali… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school-boy Invites the race;
1763 Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.
The only ghost I ever saw Was dressed in mechlin,—so; He wore no sandal on his foot, And stepped like flakes of snow. His gait was soundless, like the b…
656 The name—of it—is “Autumn”— The hue—of it—is Blood— An Artery—upon the Hill— A Vein—along the Road—
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory! From marshallings as simple
822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone
786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—
Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.
We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,
599 There is a pain—so utter— It swallows substance up— Then covers the Abyss with Trance… So Memory can step
873 Ribbons of the Year— Multitude Brocade— Worn to Nature’s Party once Then, as flung aside