#AmericanWriters
292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve—
724 It’s easy to invent a Life— God does it—every Day— Creation—but the Gambol Of His Authority—
762 The Whole of it came not at once— ’Twas Murder by degrees— A Thrust—and then for Life a chan… The Bliss to cauterize—
XXXIV NATURE is what we see, The Hill, the Afternoon— Squirrel, Eclipse, the Bumble-bee… Nay—Nature is Heaven.
32 When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done— When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun—
535 She’s happy, with a new Content— That feels to her—like Sacrament— She’s busy—with an altered Care— As just apprenticed to the Air—
XXVI THE brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ’T were easier for you
201 Two swimmers wrestled on the spar— Until the morning sun— When One—turned smiling to the la… Oh God! the Other One!
645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—
671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—
117 In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go— Veiling the purple, and the plumes… Veiling the ermine so.
“Sic transit gloria mundi,” “How doth the busy bee,” “Dum vivimus vivamus,” I stay mine enemy! Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
573 The Test of Love—is Death— Our Lord—"so loved"—it saith— What Largest Lover—hath Another—doth—
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—