#AmericanWriters
895 A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliarie… Are forever lost to me
41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses
399 A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached—
Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture
786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—
88 As by the dead we love to sit, Become so wondrous dear— As for the lost we grapple Tho’ all the rest are here—
102 Great Caesar! Condescend The Daisy, to receive, Gathered by Cato’s Daughter, With your majestic leave!
The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,
The grave my little cottage is, Where 'Keeping house’ for thee I make my parlor orderly And lay the marble tea. For two divided, briefly,
Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.
150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—
Before you thought of spring, Except as a surmise, You see, God bless his suddenness… A fellow in the skies Of independent hues,
300 ‘Morning’—means 'Milking’—to the… Dawn’—to the Teneriffe’— Dice’—to the Maid’— Morning means just Risk’—to the L…
576 I prayed, at first, a little Girl… Because they told me to— But stopped, when qualified to gue… How prayer would feel—to me—
437 Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence—is denied them. They fling their Speech