#AmericanWriters
983 Ideals are the Fairly Oil With which we help the Wheel But when the Vital Axle turns The Eye rejects the Oil.
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
The thought beneath so slight a fi… Is more distincly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.
Me prove it now —Whoever doubt Me stop to prove it —now — Make haste —the Scruple! Death be… For Opportunity — The River reaches to my feet —
152 The Sun kept stooping—stooping—lo… The Hills to meet him rose! On his side, what Transaction! On their side, what Repose!
529 I’m sorry for the Dead—Today— It’s such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences— It’s time o’ year for Hay.
901 Sweet, to have had them lost For news that they be saved— The nearer they departed Us The nearer they, restored,
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—
Growth of Man—like Growth of Nat… Gravitates within— Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it— Bit it stir—alone— Each—its difficult Ideal
117 In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go— Veiling the purple, and the plumes… Veiling the ermine so.
802 Time feels so vast that were it no… For an Eternity— I fear me this Circumference Engross my Finity—
XXXI I FOUND the phrase to every tho… I ever had, but one; And that defies me,—as a hand Did try to chalk the sun
I had been hungry all the years– My noon had come, to dine– I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. ‘T was this on tables I had seen
976 Death is a Dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. “Dissolve” says Death—The Spirit… I have another Trust”—
623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—