#AmericanWriters
404 How many Flowers fail in Wood— Or perish from the Hill— Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful—
464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—
491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood
Good night! which put the candle o… A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. Ah! friend, you little knew How long at that celestial wick The angels labored diligent;
XV I know some lonely houses off the… A robber ’d like the look of,— Wooden barred, And windows hanging low,
597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering—
741 Drama’s Vitallest Expression is t… That arise and set about Us— Other Tragedy Perish in the Recitation—
489 We pray—to Heaven— We prate—of Heaven— Relate—when Neighbors die— At what o’clock to heaven—they fle…
101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?
Immured in Heaven! What a Cell! Let every Bondage be, Thou sweetest of the Universe, Like that which ravished thee!
186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—
498 I envy Seas, whereon He rides— I envy Spokes of Wheels Of Chariots, that Him convey— I envy Crooked Hills
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
9 Through lane it lay—through brambl… Through clearing and through wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road.
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.