#AmericanWriters
Between My Country—and the Other… There is a Sea— But Flowers—negotiate between us— As Ministry.
LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.
That only lasts an hour How much '— how little '— is Within our power
242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—
He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till i… The Broad are too broad to define And of ‘Truth’ until it proclaime… The Truth never flaunted a Sign— Simplicity fled from his counterfe…
383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand
It stole along so stealthy Suspicion it was done Was dim as to the wealthy Beginning not to own -
XIV I’M ceded, I ’ve stopped being th… The name they dropped upon my face With water, in the country church, Is finished using now,
818 I could not drink it, Sweet, Till You had tasted first, Though cooler than the Water was The Thoughtfullness of Thirst.
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;
XXXI I FOUND the phrase to every tho… I ever had, but one; And that defies me,—as a hand Did try to chalk the sun
870 Finding is the first Act The second, loss, Third, Expedition for The “Golden Fleece”
There’s been a death in the opposi… As lately as to-day. I know it by the numb look Such houses have alway. The neighbors rustle in and out,
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
If you were coming in the fall, I’d brush the summer by With half a smile and half a spum, As housewives do a fly. If I could see you in a year,
