#AmericanWriters
Of all the souls that stand create I have elected one. When sense from spirit files away, And subterfuge is done; When that which is and that which…
A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa… Conscious—as old Napoleon,
624 Forever—it composed of Nows— ’Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home—
A clock stopped—not the mantel’s Geneva’s farthest skill Can’t put the puppet bowing That just now dangled still. An awe came on the trinket!
525 I think the Hemlock likes to stan… Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe
My nosegays are for captives; Dim, long-expectant eyes, Fingers denied the plucking, Patient till paradise. To such, if they should whisper
185 “Faith” is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
858 This Chasm, Sweet, upon my life I mention it to you, When Sunrise through a fissure dr… The Day must follow too.
897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.
903 I hide myself within my flower, That fading from your Vase, You, unsuspecting, feel for me— Almost a loneliness.
198 An awful Tempest mashed the air— The clouds were gaunt, and few— A Black—as of a Spectre’s Cloak Hid Heaven and Earth from view.
883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light
957 As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured—
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
349 I had the Glory—that will do— An Honor, Thought can turn her to When lesser Fames invite— With one long “Nay”—
