#AmericanWriters
8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables
Whole Gulfs– of Red, and Fleets… And Crews– of solid Blood – Did place upon the West– Tonight… As ’twere specific Ground - And They– appointed Creatures –
548 Death is potential to that Man Who dies—and to his friend— Beyond that—unconspicuous To Anyone but God—
911 Too little way the House must lie From every Human Heart That holds in undisputed Lease A white inhabitant—
XLIII I LIKE to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step
“Sic transit gloria mundi,” “How doth the busy bee,” “Dum vivimus vivamus,” I stay mine enemy! Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”
722 Sweet Mountains—Ye tell me no lie… Never deny Me—Never fly— Those same unvarying Eyes Turn on Me—when I fail—or feign,
XXX WE play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool.
784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—
620 It makes no difference abroad— The Seasons—fit—the same— The Mornings blossom into Noons— And split their Pods of Flame—
729 Alter! When the Hills do— Falter! When the Sun Question if His Glory Be the Perfect One—
808 So set its Sun in Thee What Day be dark to me— What Distance—far— So I the Ships may see
340 Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—
633 When Bells stop ringing—Church—be… The Positive—of Bells— When Cogs—stop—that's Circumferen… The Ultimate—of Wheels.