#AmericanWriters
So much of Heaven has gone from E… That there must be a Heaven If only to enclose the Saints To Affidavit given. The Missionary to the Mole
416 A Murmur in the Trees—to note— Not loud enough—for Wind— A Star—not far enough to seek— Nor near enough—to find—
623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—
853 When One has given up One’s life The parting with the rest Feels easy, as when Day lets go Entirely the West
614 In falling Timbers buried— There breathed a Man— Outside—the spades—were plying— The Lungs—within—
Yesterday is History, ’Tis so far away - Yesterday is Poetry - ’Tis Philosophy - Yesterday is mystery -
After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,— Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged,
267 Did we disobey Him? Just one time! Charged us to forget Him— But we couldn’t learn!
590 Did you ever stand in a Cavern’s… Widths out of the Sun— And look—and shudder, and block yo… And deem to be alone
236 If He dissolve – then – there is… Eclipse – at Midnight – It was dark – before – Sunset – at Easter –
I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; Yet now I know how the heather lo… And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God,
975 The Mountain sat upon the Plain In his tremendous Chair— His observation omnifold, His inquest, everywhere—
305 The difference between Despair And Fear—is like the One Between the instant of a Wreck And when the Wreck has been—
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
636 The Way I read a Letter’s—this— ’Tis first—I lock the Door— And push it with my fingers—next— For transport it be sure—
