#AmericanWriters
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
Spring comes on the World - I sight the Aprils - Hueless to me until thou come As, till the Bee Blossoms stand negative,
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
682 'Twould ease — a Butterfly — Elate — a Bee — Thou'rt neither — Neither — thy capacity —
921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.
331 While Asters— On the Hill— Their Everlasting fashions—set— And Covenant Gentians—Frill!
594 The Battle fought between the Sou… And No Man—is the One Of all the Battles prevalent— By far the Greater One—
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.
127 “Houses”—so the Wise Men tell me— “Mansions”! Mansions must be warm… Mansions cannot let the tears in, Mansions must exclude the storm!
116 I had some things that I called m… And God, that he called his, Till, recently a rival Claim Disturbed these amities.
The show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be. Fair play—
784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—
944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn
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