#AmericanWriters
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—
268 Me, change! Me, alter! Then I will, when on the Everlast… A Smaller Purple grows— At sunset, or a lesser glow
To the bright east she flies, Brothers of Paradise Remit her home, Without a change of wings, Or Love’s convenient things,
509 If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive… At such and such a time—
780 The Truth — is stirless — Other force — may be presumed to m… This — then — is best for confiden… When oldest Cedars swerve —
616 I rose—because He sank— I thought it would be opposite— But when his power dropped— My Soul grew straight.
XXII I GAVE myself to him, And took himself for pay. The solemn contract of a life Was ratified this way.
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
966 All forgot for recollecting Just a paltry One— All forsook, for just a Stranger’… New Accompanying—
283 A Mien to move a Queen— Half Child—Half Heroine— An Orleans in the Eye That puts its manner by
I dreaded that first robin so, But he is mastered now, And I’m accustomed to him grown,— He hurts a little, though. I thought if I could only live
437 Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence—is denied them. They fling their Speech
22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—
659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—
LXXXIX A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just