#AmericanWriters
He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees, Prepares your brittle substance
78 A poor—torn heart—a tattered heart… That sat it down to rest— Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day Flowed silver to the West—
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
817 Given in Marriage unto Thee Oh thou Celestial Host— Bride of the Father and the Son Bride of the Holy Ghost.
XXVI THE brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ’T were easier for you
63 If pain for peace prepares Lo, what “Augustan” years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise,
376 Of Course—I prayed— And did God Care? He cared as much as on the Air A Bird—had stamped her foot—
490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?
132 I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching Next to mine, And summon them to drink;
213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?
149 She went as quiet as the Dew From an Accustomed flower. Not like the Dew, did she return At the Accustomed hour!
406 Some’—Work for Immortality’— The Chiefer part, for Time’— He’—Compensates’—immediately’— The former’—Checks’—on Fame’—
944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn
87 A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
485 To make One’s Toilette—after Dea… Has made the Toilette cool Of only Taste we cared to please Is difficult, and still—