#AmericanWriters
833 Perhaps you think me stooping I’m not ashamed of that Christ—stooped until He touched t… Do those at Sacrament
270 One Life of so much Consequence! Yet I—for it—would pay— My Soul’s entire income— In ceaseless—salary—
81 We should not mind so small a flow… Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again.
235 The Court is far away— No Umpire—have I— My Sovereign is offended— To gain his grace—I’d die!
Nature the gentlest mother is, Impatient of no child, The feeblest of the waywardest. Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
135 Water, is taught by thirst. Land—by the Oceans passed. Transport—by throe— Peace—by its battles told—
999 Superfluous were the Sun When Excellence be dead He were superfluous every Day For every Day be said
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.
115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
985 The Missing All’—prevented Me From missing minor Things. If nothing larger than a World’s Departure from a Hinge’—
705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass…