#AmericanWriters
32 When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done— When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun—
830 To this World she returned. But with a tinge of that— A Compound manner, As a Sod
518 Her sweet Weight on my Heart a N… Had scarcely deigned to lie— When, stirring, for Belief’s deli… My Bride had slipped away—
588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—
XXVII BECAUSE I could not stop for D… He kindly stopped for me— The Carriage held but just Oursel… And Immortality.
LXXIX I YEARS had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before
859 A Doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
765 You constituted Time— I deemed Eternity A Revelation of Yourself— ’Twas therefore Deity
840 I cannot buy it—’tis not sold— There is no other in the World— Mine was the only one I was so happy I forgot
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.
23 I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho’ the sum was simple And pounds were in the land—
56 If I should cease to bring a Rose Upon a festal day, ‘Twill be because beyond the Rose I have been called away—
909 I make His Crescent fill or lack— His Nature is at Full Or Quarter—as I signify— His Tides—do I control—
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.