#AmericanWriters
565 One Anguish—in a Crowd— A Minor thing—it sounds— And yet, unto the single Doe Attempted of the Hounds
568 We learned the Whole of Love— The Alphabet—the Words— A Chapter—then the mighty Book— Then—Revelation closed—
Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—
327 Before I got my eye put out I liked as well to see— As other Creatures, that have Eye… And know no other way—
STEP lightly on this narrow spot… The broadest land that grows Is not so ample as the breast These emerald seams enclose. Step lofty; for this name is told
576 I prayed, at first, a little Girl… Because they told me to— But stopped, when qualified to gue… How prayer would feel—to me—
CXXVIII I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm.
325 Of Tribulation, these are They, Denoted by the White— The Spangled Gowns, a lesser Ran… Of Victors—designate—
Part Five: The Single Hound XLIX The duties of the Wind are few— To cast the ships, at Sea, Establish March, the Floods escor…
925 Struck, was I, not yet by Lightni… Lightning—lets away Power to perceive His Process With Vitality.
411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—
The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly -
648 Promise This—When You be Dying— Some shall summon Me— Mine belong Your latest Sighing— Mine—to Belt Your Eye—
To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.