#AmericanWriters
The Notice that is called the Spr… Is but a month from here - Put up my Heart thy Hoary work And take a Rosy Chair. Not any House the Flowers keep -
660 ’Tis good—the looking back on Gri… To re-endure a Day— We thought the Mighty Funeral— Of All Conceived Joy—
678 Wolfe demanded during dying “Which obtain the Day”? “General, the British”—"Easy” Answered Wolfe “to die”
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
I many times thought Peace had co… When Peace was far away’— As Wrecked Men’—deem they sight t… At Centre of the Sea’— And struggle slacker’—but to prove
294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—
801 I play at Riches’—to appease The Clamoring for Gold’— It kept me from a Thief, I think, For often, overbold
663 Again—his voice is at the door— I feel the old Degree— I hear him ask the servant For such an one—as me—
390 It’s coming—the postponeless Crea… It gains the Block—and now—it gai… Chooses its latch, from all the ot… Enters—with a “You know Me—Sir”?
Who were “the Father and the Son” We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us And when portentous told With inference appalling
749 All but Death, can be Adjusted— Dynasties repaired— Systems—settled in their Sockets— Citadels—dissolved—
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn't hurt— It's only fainter—by degrees— And then—it's out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—
736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church—