#AmericanWriters
I know a place where summer strive… With such a practised frost, She each year leads her daisies ba… Recording briefly, ‘Lost.’ But when the south wind stirs the…
774 It is a lonesome Glee— Yet sanctifies the Mind— With fair association— Afar upon the Wind
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,
How firm Eternity must look To crumbling men like me The only Adamant Estate In all Identity - How mighty to the insecure
127 “Houses”—so the Wise Men tell me— “Mansions”! Mansions must be warm… Mansions cannot let the tears in, Mansions must exclude the storm!
A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind. The vane a little to the east
“Morning”—means “Milking”—to the… Dawn—to the Teneriffe— Dice—to the Maid— Morning means just Risk—to the Lo… Just revelation—to the Beloved—
Longing is like the Seed That wrestles in the Ground, Believing if it intercede It shall at length be found. The Hour, and the Clime -
97 The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by, Yet is she more convincing Than Philosophy.
559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—
904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—
779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—
563 I could not prove the Years had f… Yet confident they run Am I, from symptoms that are past And Series that are done—
204 A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky—
Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine