#AmericanWriters
Said Death to Passion ‘Give of thine an Acre unto me.’ Said Passion, through contracting… ‘A Thousand Times Thee Nay.’ Bore Death from Passion
762 The Whole of it came not at once— ’Twas Murder by degrees— A Thrust—and then for Life a chan… The Bliss to cauterize—
344 ’Twas the old—road—through pain— That unfrequented—One— With many a turn—and thorn— That stops—at Heaven—
A Route of Evanescence With a revolving Wheel— A Resonance of Emerald— A Rush of Cochineal— And every Blossom on the Bush
559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—
604 Unto my Books’—so good to turn’— Far ends of tired Days’— It half endears the Abstinence’— And Pain’—is missed’—in Praise’—
751 My Worthiness is all my Doubt— His Merit—all my fear— Contrasting which, my quality Do lowlier—appear—
694 The Heaven vests for Each In that small Deity It craved the grace to worship Some bashful Summer’s Day—
407 If What we could—were what we wou… Criterion—be small— It is the Ultimate of Talk— The Impotence to Tell—
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…
XXV Wild nights—Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild nights should be Our luxury!
There is no Silence in the Earth… As that endured Which uttered, would discourage N… And haunt the World.
The nearest dream recedes, unreali… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school-boy Invites the race;
27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.
XXXIV WHO never lost, are unprepared A coronet to find; Who never thirsted, flagons And cooling tamarind.
