#AmericanWriters
458 Like eyes that looked on Wastes— Incredulous of Ought But Blank—and steady Wilderness— Diversified by Night—
899 Herein a Blossom lies— A Sepulchre, between— Cross it, and overcome the Bee— Remain—'tis but a Rind.
The Beggar at the Door for Fame Were easily supplied But Bread is that Diviner thing Disclosed to be denied
565 One Anguish—in a Crowd— A Minor thing—it sounds— And yet, unto the single Doe Attempted of the Hounds
This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,- The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty Her message is committed
Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie The Day that a Companion came Or was obliged to die
635 I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come— And we are waiting for the Coach— It seems as though the Time
Renunciation—is a piercing Virtue… The letting go A Presence—for an Expectation— Not now— The putting out of Eyes—
619 Glee—The great storm is over— Four—have recovered the Land— Forty gone down together— Into the boiling Sand.
241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe—
459 A Tooth upon Our Peace The Peace cannot deface— Then Wherefore be the Tooth? To vitalize the Grace—
677 To be alive’—is Power’— Existence’—in itself’— Without a further function’— Omnipotence’—Enough’—
271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—
A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard— Till morning touching mountain—
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—