#AmericanWriters
286 That after Horror — that ’twas us… That passed the mouldering Pier — Just as the Granite Crumb let go… Our Savior, by a Hair —
Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.
How Human Nature dotes On what it can’t detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct - Prospective is the friend
217 Savior! I’ve no one else to tell— And so I trouble thee. I am the one forgot thee so— Dost thou remember me?
IX THE heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering;
Proud of my broken heart, since th… Proud of the pain, I did not feel… Proud of my night, since thou, wit… Not to partake thy passion, –my hu… Thou can’st not boast, like Jesus…
52 Whether my bark went down at sea— Whether she met with gales— Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails—
Some keep the Sabbath going to Ch… I keep it, staying at Home— With a Bobolink for a Chorister— And an Orchard, for a Dome— Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice…
460 I know where Wells grow’—Droughtl… Deep dug’—for Summer days’— Where Mosses go no more away’— And Pebble’—safely plays’—
September’s Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets– Crows– and Retros… And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming -
757 The Mountains—grow unnoticed— Their Purple figures rise Without attempt—Exhaustion— Assistance—or Applause—
252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy
XXXIII DARE you see a soul at the white… Then crouch within the door. Red is the fire’s common tint; But when the vivid ore
GLEE! the great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation!
1763 Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.