#AmericanWriters
901 Sweet, to have had them lost For news that they be saved— The nearer they departed Us The nearer they, restored,
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.
To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory! From marshallings as simple
779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—
386 Answer July— Where is the Bee— Where is the Blush— Where is the Hay?
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
752 So the Eyes accost’—and sunder In an Audience’— Stamped’—occasionally’—forever’— So may Countenance
123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.
A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew
481 The Himmaleh was known to stoop Unto the Daisy low— Transported with Compassion That such a Doll should grow
XXXII HOPE is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the wor… And never stops at all,
107 ’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away!
565 One Anguish—in a Crowd— A Minor thing—it sounds— And yet, unto the single Doe Attempted of the Hounds
SUCCESS is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple host