#AmericanWriters
I cannot live with You— It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to—
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
1763 Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.
XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
422 More Life—went out—when He went Than Ordinary Breath— Lit with a finer Phosphor— Requiring in the Quench—
652 A Prison gets to be a friend— Between its Ponderous face And Ours—a Kinsmanship express— And in its narrow Eyes—
296 One Year ago’—jots what? God’—spell the word! I’—can’t’— Was’t Grace? Not that’— Was’t Glory? That’—will do’—
If you were coming in the fall, I’d brush the summer by With half a smile and half a spum, As housewives do a fly. If I could see you in a year,
726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…
792 Through the strait pass of sufferi… The Martyrs—even—trod. Their feet—upon Temptations— Their faces—upon God—
432 Do People moulder equally, They bury, in the Grave? I do believe a Species As positively live
LXXXIII This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond — Invisible, as Music — But positive, as Sound —
380 There is a flower that Bees prefe… And Butterflies—desire— To gain the Purple Democrat The Humming Bird—aspire—
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.