#AmericanWriters
961 Wert Thou but ill—that I might sh… How long a Day I could endure Though thine attention stop not on… Nor the least signal, Me assure—
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
142 Whose are the little beds, I aske… Which in the valleys lie? Some shook their heads, and others… And no one made reply.
773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—
820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—
652 A Prison gets to be a friend— Between its Ponderous face And Ours—a Kinsmanship express— And in its narrow Eyes—
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm. The eyes beside had wrung them dry…
338 I know that He exists. Somewhere—in Silence— He has hid his rare life From our gross eyes.
897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.
830 To this World she returned. But with a tinge of that— A Compound manner, As a Sod
81 We should not mind so small a flow… Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again.
A narrow fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,—did you not, His notice sudden is. The grass divides as with a comb,
186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—
204 A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky—