#AmericanWriters
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly -
All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -
I know a place where summer strive… With such a practised frost, She each year leads her daisies ba… Recording briefly, ‘Lost.’ But when the south wind stirs the…
784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
964 “Unto Me?” I do not know you— Where may be your House? “I am Jesus—Late of Judea— Now—of Paradise”—
234 You’re right—“the way is narrow”— And “difficult the Gate”— And “few there be”—Correct again— That “enter in—thereat”—
807 Expectation—is Contentment— Gain—Satiety— But Satiety—Conviction Of Necessity
556 The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly—and true— But let a Splinter swerve— ’Twere easier for You—
848 Just as He spoke it from his Hand… This Edifice remain— A Turret more, a Turret less Dishonor his Design—
The sky is low, the clouds are mea… A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day
358 If any sink, assure that this, now… Failed like Themselves—and consci… Grew by the Fact, and not the Und… How Weakness passed—or Force—aros…
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.