#AmericanWriters
705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –
They say that ‘time assuages,’— Time never did assuage; An actual suffering strengthens, As sinews do, with age. Time is a test of trouble,
I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose – More numerous of Windows – Superior – for Doors – Of Chambers as the Cedars –
292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve—
54 If I should die, And you should live— And time should gurgle on— And morn should beam—
XXXIX I MEANT to have but modest need… Such as content, and heaven; Within my income these could lie, And life and I keep even.
430 It would never be Common — more —… Difference — had begun — Many a bitterness — had been — But that old sort — was done —
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
I meant to find her when I came; Death had the same design; But the success was his, it seems, And the discomfit mine. I meant to tell her how I longed
901 Sweet, to have had them lost For news that they be saved— The nearer they departed Us The nearer they, restored,
912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?
241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe—
XXIX THE nearest dream recedes, unreal… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school—boy