#AmericanWriters
899 Herein a Blossom lies— A Sepulchre, between— Cross it, and overcome the Bee— Remain—'tis but a Rind.
952 A Man may make a Remark— In itself—a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a… In dormant nature—lain—
327 Before I got my eye put out I liked as well to see— As other Creatures, that have Eye… And know no other way—
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
XXIX THE nearest dream recedes, unreal… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school—boy
117 In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go— Veiling the purple, and the plumes… Veiling the ermine so.
I watched the Moon around the Hou… Until upon a Pane— She stopped—a Traveller’s privile… And there upon I gazed—as at a stranger—
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading—treading—till it see… That Sense was breaking through— And when they all were seated,
45 There’s something quieter than sle… Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name.
How firm Eternity must look To crumbling men like me The only Adamant Estate In all Identity - How mighty to the insecure
768 When I hoped, I recollect Just the place I stood— At a Window facing West— Roughest Air—was good—
487 You love the Lord’—you cannot see… You write Him’—every day’— A little note’—when you awake’— And further in the Day.
XLV DELIGHT becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain.
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
578 The Body grows without— The more convenient way— That if the Spirit—like to hide Its Temple stands, alway,