#AmericanWriters
Part Five: The Single Hound XLIX The duties of the Wind are few— To cast the ships, at Sea, Establish March, the Floods escor…
The Sun kept setting—setting—stil… No Hue of Afternoon— Upon the Village I perceived From House to House ’twas Noon— The Dusk kept dropping—dropping—s…
Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.
614 In falling Timbers buried— There breathed a Man— Outside—the spades—were plying— The Lungs—within—
1100 The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different
121 As Watchers hang upon the East, As Beggars revel at a feast By savory Fancy spread— As brooks in deserts babble sweet
‘Heavenly Father’ - take to thee The supreme iniquity Fashioned by thy candid Hand In a moment contraband - Though to trust us - seems to us
835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.
765 You constituted Time— I deemed Eternity A Revelation of Yourself— ’Twas therefore Deity
SUCCESS is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple host
I had not minded—Walls— Were Universe—one Rock— And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block— I’d tunnel—till my Groove
923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—
180 As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem— Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came
726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—
319 Of Bronze — and Blaze — The North — tonight — So adequate — it forms — So preconcerted with itself —