#AmericanWriters
625 ’Twas a long Parting—but the time For Interview—had Come— Before the Judgment Seat of God— The last—and second time
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
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,
660 ’Tis good—the looking back on Gri… To re-endure a Day— We thought the Mighty Funeral— Of All Conceived Joy—
468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—
A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,
555 Trust in the Unexpected— By this—was William Kidd Persuaded of the Buried Gold— As One had testified—
575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,
The Hills in Purple syllables The Day’s Adventures tell To little Groups of Continents Just going Home from School.
45 There’s something quieter than sle… Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name.
For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ectasty. For each beloved hour
911 Too little way the House must lie From every Human Heart That holds in undisputed Lease A white inhabitant—
616 I rose—because He sank— I thought it would be opposite— But when his power dropped— My Soul grew straight.
817 Given in Marriage unto Thee Oh thou Celestial Host— Bride of the Father and the Son Bride of the Holy Ghost.
Renunciation—is a piercing Virtue… The letting go A Presence—for an Expectation— Not now— The putting out of Eyes—