#AmericanWriters
The Face we choose to miss - Be it but for a Day As absent as a Hundred Years, When it has rode away.
Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.
My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away— And now We roam in Sovereign Woo…
I had not minded—Walls— Were Universe—one Rock— And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block— I’d tunnel—till my Groove
462 Why make it doubt — it hurts it so… So sick — to guess — So strong — to know — So brave — upon its little Bed
480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass
Of Brussels—it was not— Of Kidderminster? Nay— The Winds did buy it of the Woods… They—sold it unto me It was a gentle price—
614 In falling Timbers buried— There breathed a Man— Outside—the spades—were plying— The Lungs—within—
“Why do I love” You, Sir? Because’— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer’—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place.
539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave
Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep - Its awful chamber open stands - Its Curtains blandly sweep - Abhorrent is the Rest
Death leaves Us homesick, who beh… Except that it is gone Are ignorant of its Concern As if it were not born. Through all their former Places,…
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—
914 I cannot be ashamed Because I cannot see The love you offer— Magnitude