#AmericanWriters
I saw the wind within her I knew it blew for me '— But she must buy my shelter I asked Humility
393 Did Our Best Moment last— ‘Twould supersede the Heaven— A few—and they by Risk—procure— So this Sort—are not given—
859 A Doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—
762 The Whole of it came not at once— ’Twas Murder by degrees— A Thrust—and then for Life a chan… The Bliss to cauterize—
705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –
Safe in their alabaster chambers, Untouched by morning and untouched… Sleep the meek members of the resu… Rafter of satin, and roof of stone… Light laughs the breeze in her cas…
319 Of Bronze—and Blaze— The North—tonight— So adequate—it forms— So preconcerted with itself—
’Twas Crisis—All the length had p… That dull—benumbing time There is in Fever or Event— And now the Chance had come— The instant holding in its claw
787 Such is the Force of Happiness— The Least—can lift a Ton Assisted by its stimulus— Who Misery—sustain—
XXVI THE brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ’T were easier for you
A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached— Whose Chimney never smoked—
XXV Wild nights—Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild nights should be Our luxury!
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.
