#AmericanWriters
Remorse– is Memory– awake - Her Parties all astir - A Presence of Departed Acts - At window– and at Door – Its Past - set down before the S…
421 A Charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld— The Lady dare not lift her Veil For fear it be dispelled—
383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand
976 Death is a Dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. “Dissolve” says Death—The Spirit… I have another Trust”—
A chilly Peace infests the Grass The Sun respectful lies - Not any Trance of industry These shadows scrutinize - Whose Allies go no more astray
27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”
809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die
XIV I’M ceded, I ’ve stopped being th… The name they dropped upon my face With water, in the country church, Is finished using now,
453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we—
653 Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens—upon—
43 Could live—did live— Could die—did die— Could smile upon the whole Through faith in one he met not,
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—