#AmericanWriters
20 Distrustful of the Gentian— And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy—
809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die
An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.
I never hear the word 'escape’ Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad
VIII A wounded deer leaps highest, I ’ve heard the hunter tell; ’T is but the ecstasy of death, And then the brake is still.
549 That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived—Enough—
526 To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing— Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird
71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—
46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.
201 Two swimmers wrestled on the spar— Until the morning sun— When One—turned smiling to the la… Oh God! the Other One!
476 I meant to have but modest needs— Such as Content—and Heaven— Within my income—these could lie And Life and I—keep even—
796 Who Giants know, with lesser Men Are incomplete, and shy— For Greatness, that is ill at eas… In minor Company—
487 You love the Lord’—you cannot see… You write Him’—every day’— A little note’—when you awake’— And further in the Day.
623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—
803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—