#AmericanWriters
68 Ambition cannot find him. Affection doesn’t know How many leagues of nowhere Lie between them now.
705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –
83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—
539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave
Our journey had advanced; Our feet were almost come To that odd fork in Being’s road, Eternity by term. Our pace took sudden awe,
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?
Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
184 A transport one cannot contain May yet a transport be— Though God forbid it lift the lid… Unto its Ecstasy!
485 To make One’s Toilette—after Dea… Has made the Toilette cool Of only Taste we cared to please Is difficult, and still—
198 An awful Tempest mashed the air— The clouds were gaunt, and few— A Black—as of a Spectre’s Cloak Hid Heaven and Earth from view.
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
995 This was in the White of the Year… That—was in the Green— Drifts were as difficult then to t… As Daisies now to be seen—
966 All forgot for recollecting Just a paltry One— All forsook, for just a Stranger’… New Accompanying—
I years had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
LXVII If I should die, And you should live, And time should gurgle on, And morn should beam,