#AmericanWriters
101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?
XII I CANNOT live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
140 An altered look about the hills— A Tyrian light the village fills— A wider sunrise in the morn— A deeper twilight on the lawn—
488 Myself was formed’—a Carpenter’— An unpretending time My Plane’—and I, together wrought Before a Builder came’—
894 Of Consciousness, her awful Mate The Soul cannot be rid— As easy the secreting her Behind the Eyes of God.
March is the Month of Expectation… The things we do not know - The Persons of prognostication Are coming now - We try to show becoming firmness -
897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.
928 The Heart has narrow Banks It measures like the Sea In mighty—unremitting Bass And Blue Monotony
871 The Sun and Moon must make their… The Stars express around For in the Zones of Paradise The Lord alone is burned—
455 Triumph—may be of several kinds— There’s Triumph in the Room When that Old Imperator—Death— By Faith
XII I ASKED no other thing, No other was denied. I offered Being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
343 My Reward for Being, was This. My premium—My Bliss— An Admiralty, less— A Sceptre—penniless—
913 And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning ros… Early and sere, its end
890 From Us She wandered now a Year, Her tarrying, unknown, If Wilderness prevent her feet Or that Ethereal Zone