#AmericanWriters
How slow the Wind - how slow the sea - how late their Fathers be!
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
I meant to find her when I came; Death had the same design; But the success was his, it seems, And the discomfit mine. I meant to tell her how I longed
There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin,
LXXXVI A LADY red upon the hill Her annual secret keeps; A lady white within the field In placid lily sleeps!
Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.
665 Dropped into the Ether Acre— Wearing the Sod Gown— Bonnet of Everlasting Laces— Brooch—frozen on—
491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood
755 No Bobolink—reverse His Singing When the only Tree Ever He minded occupying By the Farmer be—
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
393 Did Our Best Moment last— ‘Twould supersede the Heaven— A few—and they by Risk—procure— So this Sort—are not given—
669 No Romance sold unto Could so enthrall a Man As the perusal of His Individual One—
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
690 Victory comes late— And is held low to freezing lips— Too rapt with frost To take it—
XX ARCTURUS is his other name,— I ’d rather call him star! It ’s so unkind of science To go and interfere!