#AmericanWriters
319 Of Bronze — and Blaze — The North — tonight — So adequate — it forms — So preconcerted with itself —
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…
755 No Bobolink—reverse His Singing When the only Tree Ever He minded occupying By the Farmer be—
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
981 As Sleigh Bells seem in summer Or Bees, at Christmas show— So fairy—so fictitious The individuals do
An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.
673 The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon…
412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—
763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years—
519 ’Twas warm—at first—like Us— Until there crept upon A Chill—like frost upon a Glass— Till all the scene—be gone.
898 How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom
537 Me prove it now—Whoever doubt Me stop to prove it—now— Make haste—the Scruple! Death be… For Opportunity—
188 Make me a picture of the sun— So I can hang it in my room— And make believe I’m getting warm When others call it “Day”!
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.