#AmericanWriters
Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather
The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.
239 “Heaven”—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—"He aven" is—to Me!
364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—
755 No Bobolink—reverse His Singing When the only Tree Ever He minded occupying By the Farmer be—
IX THE heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering;
A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind. The vane a little to the east
A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,
676 Least Bee that brew— A Honey’s Weight Content Her smallest fraction hel… The Amber Quantity—
Presentiment is that long shadow o… Indicative that suns go down; The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.
Some keep the Sabbath going to Ch… I keep it, staying at Home— With a Bobolink for a Chorister— And an Orchard, for a Dome— Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice…
298 Alone, I cannot be— For Hosts—do visit me— Recordless Company— Who baffle Key—
610 You’ll find—it when you try to die… The Easier to let go— For recollecting such as went— You could not spare—you know.
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;