#AmericanWriters
LIX I TOOK my power in my hand And went against the world; ’T was not so much as David had, But I was twice as bold.
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.
782 There is an arid Pleasure— As different from Joy— As Frost is different from Dew— Like element—are they—
851 When the Astronomer stops seeking For his Pleiad’s Face— When the lone British Lady Forsakes the Arctic Race
69 Low at my problem bending, Another problem comes— Larger than mine—Serener— Involving statelier sums.
970 Color — Caste — Denomination — These — are Time's Affair — Death's diviner Classifying Does not know they are —
642 Me from Myself — to banish — Had I Art — Impregnable my Fortress Unto All Heart —
Sometimes with the Heart Seldom with the Soul Scarcer once with the Might Few - love at all.
Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather
XVIII READ, sweet, how others strove, Till we are stouter; What they renounced, Till we are less afraid;
705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –
915 Faith’—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not’— Too slender for the eye
I meant to find her when I came; Death had the same design; But the success was his, it seems, And the discomfit mine. I meant to tell her how I longed
994 Partake as doth the Bee, Abstemiously. The Rose is an Estate— In Sicily.