#AmericanWriters
404 How many Flowers fail in Wood— Or perish from the Hill— Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful—
The Sea said 'Come’ to the Brook… The Brook said 'Let me grow’ - The Sea said 'Then you will be a… I want a Brook - Come now’! The Sea said 'Go’ to the Sea -
Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—
I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come,
717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—
450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s bett… If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn—
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
599 There is a pain’—so utter’— It swallows substance up’— Then covers the Abyss with Trance… So Memory can step
894 Of Consciousness, her awful Mate The Soul cannot be rid— As easy the secreting her Behind the Eyes of God.
So much of Heaven has gone from E… That there must be a Heaven If only to enclose the Saints To Affidavit given. The Missionary to the Mole
512 The Soul has Bandaged moments— When too appalled to stir— She feels some ghastly Fright com… And stop to look at her—
595 Like Mighty Foot Lights’—burned… At Bases of the Trees’— The far Theatricals of Day Exhibiting’—to These’—
991 She sped as Petals of a Rose Offended by the Wind— A frail Aristocrat of Time Indemnity to find—
My life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away— And now We roam in Sovereign Woo…
116 I had some things that I called m… And God, that he called his, Till, recently a rival Claim Disturbed these amities.