#AmericanWriters
308 I send Two Sunsets— Day and I—in competition ran— I finished Two—and several Stars— While He—was making One—
534 We see—Comparatively— The Thing so towering high We could not grasp its segment Unaided—Yesterday—
57 To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I,
XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.
539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave
Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled
The day came slow, till five o’clo… Then sprang before the hills, Like hindered rubies, or the light… A sudden musket spills. The purple could not keep the east…
455 Triumph—may be of several kinds— There’s Triumph in the Room When that Old Imperator—Death— By Faith
916 His Feet are shod with Gauze— His Helmet, is of Gold, His Breast, a Single Onyx With Chrysophrase, inlaid.
365 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
Luck is not chance It’s Toil Fortune’s expensive smile Is earned The Father of the Mine
I saw the wind within her I knew it blew for me '— But she must buy my shelter I asked Humility
100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold
623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—
402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—