#AmericanWriters
559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—
837 How well I knew Her not Whom not to know has been A Bounty in prospective, now Next Door to mine the Pain.
819 All I may, if small, Do it not display Larger for the Totalness— ’Tis Economy
852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
481 The Himmaleh was known to stoop Unto the Daisy low— Transported with Compassion That such a Doll should grow
954 The Chemical conviction That Nought be lost Enable in Disaster My fractured Trust—
75 She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn
XLI THE soul unto itself Is an imperial friend,— Or the most agonizing spy An enemy could send.
We like March, his shoes are purp… He is new and high; Makes he mud for dog and peddler, Makes he forest dry; Knows the adder’s tongue his comin…
295 Unto like Story—Trouble has entic… How Kinsmen fell— Brothers and Sister—who preferred… And their young will
575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,
No matter—now—Sweet— But when I’m Earl— Won’t you wish you’d spoken To that dull Girl? Trivial a Word—just—
201 Two swimmers wrestled on the spar— Until the morning sun— When One—turned smiling to the la… Oh God! the Other One!