#AmericanWriters
I stepped from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; The stars about my head I felt, About my feet the sea. I knew not but the next
526 To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing— Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird
1034 His Bill an Auger is, His Head, a Cap and Frill. He laboreth at every Tree A Worm, His utmost Goal.
517 He parts Himself—like Leaves— And then—He closes up— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup—
Why – do they shut Me out of Heav… Did I sing – too loud? But – I can say a little “minor” Timid as a Bird! Wouldn’t the Angels try me –
335 ’Tis not that Dying hurts us so— ’Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way— A Kind behind the Door—
9 Through lane it lay—through brambl… Through clearing and through wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road.
29 If those I loved were lost The Crier’s voice would tell me— If those I loved were found The bells of Ghent would ring—
166 I met a King this afternoon! He had not on a Crown indeed, A little Palmleaf Hat was all, And he was barefoot, I’m afraid!
Wild Nights! Wild Nights! Were I with thee, Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the winds
884 As Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land.
Too cold is this To warm with Sun - Too stiff to bended be, To joint this Agate were a work - Outstaring Masonry -
Going to him! Happy letter! Tell… Tell him the page I didn’t write; Tell him I only said the syntax, And left the verb and the pronoun… Tell him just how the fingers hurr…
766 My Faith is larger than the Hills… So when the Hills decay— My Faith must take the Purple Wh… To show the Sun the way—
375 The Angle of a Landscape— That every time I wake— Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack—