#AmericanWriters
433 Knows how to forget! But could It teach it? Easiest of Arts, they say When one learn how
532 I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen— Some Polar Expiation—An Omen in… Of Death’s tremendous nearness—
560 It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation… But large—serene— Burned on—until through Dissoluti… It failed from Men—
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
233 The Lamp burns sure—within— Tho’ Serfs—supply the Oil— It matters not the busy Wick— At her phosphoric toil!
A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard— Till morning touching mountain—
The cricket sang, And set the sun, And workmen finished, one by one, Their seam the day upon. The low grass loaded with the dew,
A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasur… To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore… A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take,
The nearest dream recedes, unreali… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school-boy Invites the race;
506 He touched me, so I live to know That such a day, permitted so, I groped upon his breast— It was a boundless place to me
40 When I count the seeds That are sown beneath, To bloom so, bye and bye— When I con the people
VII WITHIN my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered through the village…
412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
938 Fairer through Fading—as the Day Into the Darkness dips away— Half Her Complexion of the Sun— Hindering—Haunting—Perishing—