#AmericanWriters
XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
XV I know some lonely houses off the… A robber ’d like the look of,— Wooden barred, And windows hanging low,
697 I could bring You Jewels—had I a… But You have enough—of those— I could bring You Odors from St.… Colors—from Vera Cruz—
384 No Rack can torture me— My Soul—at Liberty— Behind this mortal Bone There knits a bolder One—
The going from a world we know To one a wonder still Is like the child’s adversity Whose vista is a hill, Behind the hill is sorcery
62 “Sown in dishonor”! Ah! Indeed! May this “dishonor” be? If I were half so fine myself
805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—
Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.
560 It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation… But large—serene— Burned on—until through Dissoluti… It failed from Men—
XLV DELIGHT becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain.
High from the earth I heard a bir… He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then he spied a breeze, And situated softly
504 You know that Portrait in the Moo… So tell me who ’tis like— The very Brow—the stooping eyes— A fog for—Say—Whose Sake?
633 When Bells stop ringing—Church—be… The Positive—of Bells— When Cogs—stop—that's Circumferen… The Ultimate—of Wheels.
289 I know some lonely Houses off the… A Robber’d like the look of— Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low,
830 To this World she returned. But with a tinge of that— A Compound manner, As a Sod