#AmericanWriters
489 We pray—to Heaven— We prate—of Heaven— Relate—when Neighbors die— At what o’clock to heaven—they fle…
Pain—has an Element of Blank— It cannot recollect When it begun—or if there were A time when it was not— It has no Future—but itself—
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—
LXXXV A LIGHT exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here
Come slowly, Eden Lips unused to thee. Bashful, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee,
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—
This is the land the sunset washes… These are the banks of the Yellow… Where it rose, or whither it rushe… These are the western mystery! Night after night her purple traff…
213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?
88 As by the dead we love to sit, Become so wondrous dear— As for the lost we grapple Tho’ all the rest are here—
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—
92 My friend must be a Bird’— Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies!
485 To make One’s Toilette—after Dea… Has made the Toilette cool Of only Taste we cared to please Is difficult, and still—
332 There are two Ripenings—one—of si… Whose forces Spheric wind Until the Velvet product Drop spicy to the ground—
Tell all the truth but tell it sla… Success in circuit lies, Too bright for our infirm delight The truth’s superb surprise; As lightning to the children eased