#AmericanWriters
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
458 Like eyes that looked on Wastes— Incredulous of Ought But Blank—and steady Wilderness— Diversified by Night—
895 A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliarie… Are forever lost to me
Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.
679 Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—
430 It would never be Common—more—I s… Difference—had begun— Many a bitterness—had been— But that old sort—was done—
990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—
153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.
I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm. The eyes beside had wrung them dry…
The Sea said 'Come’ to the Brook… The Brook said 'Let me grow’ - The Sea said 'Then you will be a… I want a Brook - Come now’! The Sea said 'Go’ to the Sea -
543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—
A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasur… To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore… A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take,
181 I lost a World - the other day! Has Anybody found? You’ll know it by the Row of Star… Around its forehead bound.
It stole along so stealthy Suspicion it was done Was dim as to the wealthy Beginning not to own -
