#AmericanWriters
685 Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
772 The hallowing of Pain Like hallowing of Heaven, Obtains at a corporeal cost— The Summit is not given
598 Three times—we parted—Breath—and… Three times—He would not go— But strove to stir the lifeless F… The Waters—strove to stay.
The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
648 Promise This—When You be Dying— Some shall summon Me— Mine belong Your latest Sighing— Mine—to Belt Your Eye—
‘They have not chosen me,’ he said… ‘But I have chosen them!’ Brave’—Broken hearted statement’— Uttered in Bethlehem! I could not have told it,
His Heart was darker than the sta… For that there is a morn But in this black Receptacle Can be no Bode of Dawn
732 She rose to His Requirement—dropt The Playthings of Her Life To take the honorable Work Of Woman, and of Wife—
LXI EACH life converges to some cent… Expressed or still; Exists in every human nature A goal,
1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm
830 To this World she returned. But with a tinge of that— A Compound manner, As a Sod
Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled
657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—
They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…