#AmericanWriters
Death leaves Us homesick, who beh… Except that it is gone Are ignorant of its Concern As if it were not born. Through all their former Places,…
100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold
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,
509 If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive… At such and such a time—
981 As Sleigh Bells seem in summer Or Bees, at Christmas show— So fairy—so fictitious The individuals do
118 My friend attacks my friend! Oh Battle picturesque! Then I turn Soldier too, And he turns Satirist!
870 Finding is the first Act The second, loss, Third, Expedition for The “Golden Fleece”
724 It’s easy to invent a Life— God does it—every Day— Creation—but the Gambol Of His Authority—
923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—
681 Soil of Flint, if steady tilled— Will refund by Hand— Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun Fructified in Sand—
456 So well that I can live without— I love thee—then How well is that… As well as Jesus? Prove it me
562 Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns— Adds poignancy to Winter— The Shivering Fancy turns
487 You love the Lord’—you cannot see… You write Him’—every day’— A little note’—when you awake’— And further in the Day.
Volcanoes be in Sicily And South America I judge from my Geography - Volcanos nearer here A Lava step at any time
448 This was a Poet—It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings— And Attar so immense