#AmericanWriters
877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one
82 Whose cheek is this? What rosy face Has lost a blush today? I found her—"pleiad"—in the woods
35 Nobody knows this little Rose— It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee.
490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
260 Read—Sweet—how others—strove— Till we—are stouter— What they—renounced— Till we—are less afraid—
143 For every Bird a Nest— Wherefore in timid quest Some little Wren goes seeking rou… Wherefore when boughs are free—
A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind. The vane a little to the east
881 I’ve none to tell me to but Thee So when Thou failest, nobody. It was a little tie— It just held Two, nor those it he…
Renunciation—is a piercing Virtue… The letting go A Presence—for an Expectation— Not now— The putting out of Eyes—
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
Some keep the Sabbath going to Ch… I keep it, staying at Home— With a Bobolink for a Chorister— And an Orchard, for a Dome— Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice…
913 And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning ros… Early and sere, its end
229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near
839 Always Mine! No more Vacation! Term of Light this Day begun! Failless as the fair rotation
