#AmericanWriters
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
922 Those who have been in the Grave… Those who begin Today— Equally perish from our Practise— Death is the other way—
21 We lose’—because we win’— Gamblers’—recollecting which Toss their dice again!
497 He strained my faith— Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust— Did it then—yield?
882 A Shade upon the mind there passe… As when on Noon A Cloud the mighty Sun encloses Remembering
“Unto Me?” I do not know you’— Where may be your House? “I am Jesus’—Late of Judea’— Now’—of Paradise"'— Wagons’—have you’—to convey me?
578 The Body grows without— The more convenient way— That if the Spirit—like to hide Its Temple stands, alway,
XXVII I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you—Nobody—too? Then there’s a pair of us! Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you k…
Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets,… Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman,
655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—
608 Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death—for who is He? The Porter of my Father’s Lodge As much abasheth me!
564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?
So much of Heaven has gone from E… That there must be a Heaven If only to enclose the Saints To Affidavit given. The Missionary to the Mole
923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—
293 I got so I could take his name— Without—Tremendous gain— That Stop-sensation—on my Soul— And Thunder—in the Room—