#AmericanWriters
675 Essential Oilsare wrung The Attar from the Rose Be not expressed by Sunsalone It is the gift of Screws
136 Have you got a Brook in your litt… Where bashful flowers blow, And blushing birds go down to drin… And shadows tremble so—
282 How noteless Men, and Pleiads, st… Until a sudden sky Reveals the fact that One is rapt Forever from the Eye—
765 You constituted Time— I deemed Eternity A Revelation of Yourself— ’Twas therefore Deity
It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bell… Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh
XXVI THE brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ’T were easier for you
Nature the gentlest mother is, Impatient of no child, The feeblest of the waywardest. Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
844 Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide,
89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there 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,
769 One and One—are One— Two—be finished using— Well enough for schools— But for minor Choosing—
To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn’t hurt— It’s only fainter—by degrees— And then—it’s out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—
516 Beauty—be not caused—It Is— Chase it, and it ceases— Chase it not, and it abides— Overtake the Creases
884 As Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land.
746 Never for Society He shall seek in vain— Who His own acquaintance Cultivate—Of Men