#AmericanWriters
195 For this—accepted Breath— Through it—compete with Death— The fellow cannot touch this Crow… By it—my title take—
Me! Come! My dazzled face In such a shining place! Me! Hear! My foreign ear The sounds of welcome near! The saints shall meet
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,
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.
Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.
232 The Sun’—just touched the Morning… The Morning’—Happy thing’— Supposed that He had come to dwel… And Life would all be Spring!
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
38 By such and such an offering To Mr. So and So, The web of live woven— So martyrs albums show!
781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—
A Route of Evanescence With a revolving Wheel— A Resonance of Emerald— A Rush of Cochineal— And every Blossom on the Bush
LXXXV A LIGHT exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here
Could Hope inspect her Basis Her Craft were done - Has a fictitious Charter Or it has none - Balked in the vastest instance
There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin,
30 Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest town?
268 Me, change! Me, alter! Then I will, when on the Everlast… A Smaller Purple grows— At sunset, or a lesser glow