#AmericanWriters
A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs— Whose Emerald Nest the Ages spin
71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—
343 My Reward for Being, was This. My premium—My Bliss— An Admiralty, less— A Sceptre—penniless—
137 Flowers—Well—if anybody Can the ecstasy define— Half a transport—half a trouble— With which flowers humble men:
714 Rest at Night The Sun from shining, Nature—and some Men— Rest at Noon—some Men—
XXXVIII THROUGH the straight pass of su… The martyrs even trod, Their feet upon temptation, Their faces upon God.
XVIII READ, sweet, how others strove, Till we are stouter; What they renounced, Till we are less afraid;
551 There is a Shame of Nobleness— Confronting Sudden Pelf— A finer Shame of Ecstasy— Convicted of Itself—
275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life— Poured thee, without a stint—
267 Did we disobey Him? Just one time! Charged us to forget Him— But we couldn’t learn!
656 The name—of it—is “Autumn”— The hue—of it—is Blood— An Artery—upon the Hill— A Vein—along the Road—
13 Sleep is supposed to be By souls of sanity The shutting of the eye. Sleep is the station grand
XLVII HEART, we will forget him! You and I, to—night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.
859 A Doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
906 The Admirations’—and Contempts’—o… Show justest’—through an Open Tom… The Dying’—as it were a Height Reorganizes Estimate