#AmericanWriters
CXXVIII 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.
841 A Moth the hue of this Haunts Candles in Brazil. Nature’s Experience would make Our Reddest Second pale.
When a Lover is a Beggar Abject is his Knee - When a Lover is an Owner Different is he - What he begged is then the Beggar…
294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
958 We met as Sparks—Diverging Flint… Sent various—scattered ways— We parted as the Central Flint Were cloven with an Adze—
978 It bloomed and dropt, a Single No… The Flower—distinct and Red— I, passing, thought another Noon Another in its stead
This is the land the sunset washes… These are the banks of the Yellow… Where it rose, or whither it rushe… These are the western mystery! Night after night her purple traff…
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—
553 One Crucifixion is recorded’—only… How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics’— Or History’—
575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,
844 Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide,
749 All but Death, can be Adjusted— Dynasties repaired— Systems—settled in their Sockets— Citadels—dissolved—
452 The Malay—took the Pearl— Not—I—the Earl— I—feared the Sea—too much Unsanctified—to touch—