#AmericanWriters
XXXIII DARE you see a soul at the white… Then crouch within the door. Red is the fire’s common tint; But when the vivid ore
The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.
They say that ‘time assuages,’— Time never did assuage; An actual suffering strengthens, As sinews do, with age. Time is a test of trouble,
All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -
731 “I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead—
A thought went up my mind to-day That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year, Nor where it went, nor why it came
Longing is like the Seed That wrestles in the Ground, Believing if it intercede It shall at length be found. The Hour, and the Clime -
912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
Between My Country—and the Other… There is a Sea— But Flowers—negotiate between us— As Ministry.
713 Fame of Myself, to justify, All other Plaudit be Superfluous—An Incense Beyond Necessity—
I felt a cleaving in my mind As if my brain had split; I tried to match it, seam by seam, But could not make them fit. The thought behind I strove to jo…
989 Gratitude—is not the mention Of a Tenderness, But its still appreciation Out of Plumb of Speech.
856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.
860 Absence disembodies—so does Death Hiding individuals from the Earth Superposition helps, as well as lo… Tenderness decreases as we prove—