#AmericanWriters
273 He put the Belt around my life I heard the Buckle snap— And turned away, imperial, My Lifetime folding up—
575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,
496 As far from pity, as complaint— As cool to speech—as stone— As numb to Revelation As if my Trade were Bone—
On my volcano grows the Grass A meditative spot - An acre for a Bird to choose Would be the General thought - How red the Fire rocks below -
880 The Bird must sing to earn the Cr… What merit have the Tune No Breakfast if it guaranty The Rose content may bloom
75 She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn
152 The Sun kept stooping—stooping—lo… The Hills to meet him rose! On his side, what Transaction! On their side, what Repose!
Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair. Be its mattress straight,
940 On that dear Frame the Years had… Yet precious as the House In which We first experienced Lig… The Witnessing, to Us—
481 The Himmaleh was known to stoop Unto the Daisy low— Transported with Compassion That such a Doll should grow
8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables
1100 The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
When Memory is full Put on the perfect Lid - This Morning’s finest syllable Presumptuous Evening said -
122 A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon—