#AmericanWriters
726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—
XXXIV WHO never lost, are unprepared A coronet to find; Who never thirsted, flagons And cooling tamarind.
893 Drab Habitation of Whom? Tabernacle or Tomb— Or Dome of Worm— Or Porch of Gnome—
803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—
901 Sweet, to have had them lost For news that they be saved— The nearer they departed Us The nearer they, restored,
886 These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude.
225 Jesus! thy Crucifix Enable thee to guess The smaller size! Jesus! thy second face
628 They called me to the Window, for “ ’Twas Sunset”—Some one said— I only saw a Sapphire Farm— And just a Single Herd—
The Grass so little has to do ' A Sphere of simple Green ' With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain ' And stir all day to pretty Tunes
My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away— And now We roam in Sovereign Woo…
182 If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
355 ’Tis Opposites—entice— Deformed Men—ponder Grace— Bright fires—the Blanketless— The Lost—Day’s face—
I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died
604 Unto my Books’—so good to turn’— Far ends of tired Days’— It half endears the Abstinence’— And Pain’—is missed’—in Praise’—
714 Rest at Night The Sun from shining, Nature—and some Men— Rest at Noon—some Men—