#AmericanWriters
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
To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
826 Love reckons by itself—alone— “As large as I”—relate the Sun To One who never felt it blaze— Itself is all the like it has—
Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself— Tastes Death—the first—to hand th…
Death sets a thing significant The eye had hurried by, Except a perished creature Entreat us tenderly To ponder little workmanships
926 Patience’—has a quiet Outer’— Patience’—Look within’— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites’—between’—
I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes— I wonder if It weighs like Mine— Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long—
898 How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom
152 The Sun kept stooping—stooping—lo… The Hills to meet him rose! On his side, what Transaction! On their side, what Repose!
553 One Crucifixion is recorded’—only… How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics’— Or History’—
His Heart was darker than the sta… For that there is a morn But in this black Receptacle Can be no Bode of Dawn
LXII A DROP fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh.
823 Not that We did, shall be the tes… When Act and Will are done But what Our Lord infers We woul… Had We diviner been—
394 ’Twas Love’—not me’— Oh punish’—pray’— The Real one died for Thee’— Just Him’—not me’—
It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,