#AmericanWriters
440 ’Tis customary as we part A trinket—to confer— It helps to stimulate the faith When Lovers be afar—
A chilly Peace infests the Grass The Sun respectful lies - Not any Trance of industry These shadows scrutinize - Whose Allies go no more astray
The Face we choose to miss - Be it but for a Day As absent as a Hundred Years, When it has rode away.
142 Whose are the little beds, I aske… Which in the valleys lie? Some shook their heads, and others… And no one made reply.
482 We Cover Thee—Sweet Face— Not that We tire of Thee— But that Thyself fatigue of Us— Remember—as Thou go—
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—
859 A Doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn
Part One: Life LIV EXPERIMENT to me Is every one I meet. If it contain a kernel?
310 Give little Anguish— Lives will fret— Give Avalanches— And they’ll slant—
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
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
134 Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower… But I could never sell— If you would like to borrow, Until the Daffodil
Are Friends Delight or Pain? Could Bounty but remain Riches were good - But if they only stay Ampler to fly away