#AmericanWriters
292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve—
178 I cautious, scanned my little life… I winnowed what would fade From what would last till Heads l… Should be a-dreaming laid.
792 Through the strait pass of sufferi… The Martyrs—even—trod. Their feet—upon Temptations— Their faces—upon God—
826 Love reckons by itself—alone— “As large as I”—relate the Sun To One who never felt it blaze— Itself is all the like it has—
God permit industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one,—forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway. God calls home the angels promptly
1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm
886 These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude.
755 No Bobolink—reverse His Singing When the only Tree Ever He minded occupying By the Farmer be—
1035 Bee! I’m expecting you! Was saying Yesterday To Somebody you know That you were due—
I had not minded—Walls— Were Universe—one Rock— And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block— I’d tunnel—till my Groove
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
841 A Moth the hue of this Haunts Candles in Brazil. Nature’s Experience would make Our Reddest Second pale.
728 Let Us play Yesterday— I—the Girl at school— You—and Eternity—the Untold Tale—
156 You love me—you are sure— I shall not fear mistake— I shall not cheated wake— Some grinning morn—