#AmericanWriters
238 Kill your Balm’—and its Odors ble… Bare your Jessamine’—to the storm… And she will fling her maddest per… Haply’—your Summer night to Charm…
There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us—
220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?
To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn't hurt— It's only fainter—by degrees— And then—it's out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—
Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,
904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—
319 Of Bronze — and Blaze — The North — tonight — So adequate — it forms — So preconcerted with itself —
503 Better—than Music! For I—who hea… I was used—to the Birds—before— This—was different—’Twas Translat… Of all tunes I knew—and more—
To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables
498 I envy Seas, whereon He rides— I envy Spokes of Wheels Of Chariots, that Him convey— I envy Crooked Hills
174 At last, to be identified! At last, the lamps upon thy side The rest of Life to see! Past Midnight! Past the Morning…
My life closed twice before its cl… It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me So huge, so hopeless to conceive
959 A loss of something ever felt I— The first that I could recollect Bereft I was—of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect
A Death blow is a Life blow to S… Who till they died, did not alive… Who had they lived, had died but w… They died, Vitality begun.