#AmericanWriters
I SHOULD have been too glad, I… Too lifted for the scant degree Of life’s penurious round; My little circuit would have shame… This new circumference, have blame…
616 I rose—because He sank— I thought it would be opposite— But when his power dropped— My Soul grew straight.
LXXXVIII HEAVEN is what I cannot reach! The apple on the tree, Provided it do hopeless hang, That “heaven” is, to me.
659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.
580 I gave myself to Him— And took Himself, for Pay, The solemn contract of a Life Was ratified, this way—
113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—
752 So the Eyes accost’—and sunder In an Audience’— Stamped’—occasionally’—forever’— So may Countenance
Tell all the Truth but tell it sl… Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth’s superb surprise As Lightning to the Children ease…
958 We met as Sparks—Diverging Flint… Sent various—scattered ways— We parted as the Central Flint Were cloven with an Adze—
22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—
319 Of Bronze — and Blaze — The North — tonight — So adequate — it forms — So preconcerted with itself —
646 I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify—
864 The Robin for the Crumb Returns no syllable But long records the Lady’s name In Silver Chronicle.
209 With thee, in the Desert— With thee in the thirst— With thee in the Tamarind wood— Leopard breathes—at last!