#AmericanWriters
233 The Lamp burns sure—within— Tho’ Serfs—supply the Oil— It matters not the busy Wick— At her phosphoric toil!
114 Good night, because we must, How intricate the dust! I would go, to know! Oh incognito!
594 The Battle fought between the Sou… And No Man—is the One Of all the Battles prevalent— By far the Greater One—
497 He strained my faith— Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust— Did it then—yield?
736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church—
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
432 Do People moulder equally, They bury, in the Grave? I do believe a Species As positively live
Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled
Not any sunny tone From any fervent zone Find entrance there - Better a grave of Balm Toward human nature’s home -
LXII BEFORE I got my eye put out, I liked as well to see As other creatures that have eyes, And know no other way.
LXXIII I ’LL tell you how the sun rose,— A ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran.
As from the earth the light Ballo… Asks nothing but release - Ascension that for which it was, Its soaring Residence. The spirit looks upon the Dust
661 Could I but ride indefinite As doth the Meadow Bee And visit only where I liked And No one visit me
900 What did They do since I saw The… Were They industrious? So many questions to put Them Have I the eagerness
944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn