#AmericanWriters
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—
411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,
Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture
76 Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses—past the headlands… Into deep Eternity—
114 Good night, because we must, How intricate the dust! I would go, to know! Oh incognito!
927 Absent Place—an April Day— Daffodils a-blow Homesick curiosity To the Souls that snow—
292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve—
392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.
593 I think I was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful—
That only lasts an hour How much '— how little '— is Within our power
It dropped so low—in my Regard— I heard it hit the Ground— And go to pieces on the Stones At bottom of my Mind— Yet blamed the Fate that flung it…
550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then