#AmericanWriters
544 The Martyr Poets’—did not tell’— But wrought their Pang in syllabl… That when their mortal name be num… Their mortal fate’—encourage Some…
I breathed enough to learn the tri… And now, removed from air, I simulate the breath so well, That one, to be quite sure The lungs are stirless, must desce…
CXXXVI I STEPPED from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; The stars about my head I felt, About my feet the sea.
854 Banish Air from Air— Divide Light if you dare— They’ll meet While Cubes in a Drop
663 Again—his voice is at the door— I feel the old Degree— I hear him ask the servant For such an one—as me—
955 The Hollows round His eager Eyes Were Pages where to read Pathetic Histories—although Himself had not complained.
XXI HE ate and drank the precious wor… His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust.
672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—
682 'Twould ease — a Butterfly — Elate — a Bee — Thou'rt neither — Neither — thy capacity —
If all the griefs I am to have Would only come today, I am so happy I believe They’d laugh and run away. If all the joys I am to have
685 Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
727 Precious to Me—She still shall be… Though She forget the name I bear… The fashion of the Gown I wear— The very Color of My Hair—
Come slowly, Eden Lips unused to thee. Bashful, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee,
853 When One has given up One’s life The parting with the rest Feels easy, as when Day lets go Entirely the West
141 Some, too fragile for winter winds The thoughtful grave encloses— Tenderly tucking them in from fros… Before their feet are cold.