#AmericanWriters
66 So from the mould Scarlet and Gold Many a Bulb will rise— Hidden away, cunningly, From saga…
A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached— Whose Chimney never smoked—
To see her is a Picture— To hear her is a Tune— To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June— To know her not—Affliction—
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—
Delight becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain. The mountaln at a given distance
442 God made a little Gentian— It tried—to be a Rose— And failed—and all the Summer lau… But just before the Snows
234 You’re right—“the way is narrow”— And “difficult the Gate”— And “few there be”—Correct again— That “enter in—thereat”—
824 [first version] The Wind begun to knead the Grass… As Women do a Dough— He flung a Hand full at the Plain…
XXXIX I MEANT to have but modest need… Such as content, and heaven; Within my income these could lie, And life and I keep even.
758 These’—saw Visions’— Latch them softly’— These’—held Dimples’— Smooth them slow’—
45 There’s something quieter than sle… Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name.
Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
844 Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide,
714 Rest at Night The Sun from shining, Nature—and some Men— Rest at Noon—some Men—