#AmericanWriters
LXI EACH life converges to some cent… Expressed or still; Exists in every human nature A goal,
243 I’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent— To wrap its shining Yards— Pluck up its stakes, and disappear… Without the sound of Boards
610 You’ll find—it when you try to die… The Easier to let go— For recollecting such as went— You could not spare—you know.
71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—
If I can stop one heart from brea… I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching… Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin
266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!
By homely gift and hindered Words The human heart is told Of Nothing - ‘Nothing’ is the force That renovates the World -
850 I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I
The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem
294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—
XLIII I LIKE to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
61 Papa above! Regard a Mouse O’erpowered by the Cat! Reserve within thy kingdom
We grow accustomed to the Dark - When light is put away - As when the Neighbor holds the La… To witness her Goodbye - A Moment - We uncertain step
My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I’m feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be