#AmericanWriters
XXXI I FOUND the phrase to every tho… I ever had, but one; And that defies me,—as a hand Did try to chalk the sun
Nature rarer uses Yellow Than another Hue. Saves she all of that for Sunsets Prodigal of Blue Spending Scarlet, like a Woman
XIV I’M ceded, I ’ve stopped being th… The name they dropped upon my face With water, in the country church, Is finished using now,
’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away! ’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
1545 The Bible is an antique Volume— Written by faded men At the suggestion of Holy Spectre… Subjects—Bethlehem&mdash ;
A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliarie… Are forever lost to me Had I but further scanned
155 The Murmur of a Bee A Witchcraft—yieldeth me— If any ask me why— ’Twere easier to die—
Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—
550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then
44 If she had been the Mistletoe And I had been the Rose— How gay upon your table My velvet life to close—
A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs— Whose Emerald Nest the Ages spin
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
861 Split the Lark—and you’ll find th… Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled… Scantilly dealt to the Summer Mor… Saved for your Ear when Lutes be…
Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—
