#AmericanWriters
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
560 It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation… But large—serene— Burned on—until through Dissoluti… It failed from Men—
172 ’Tis so much joy! ’Tis so much jo… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I, Have ventured all upon a throw!
After great pain a formal feeling… The nerves sit ceremonious like to… The stiff Heart questions—was it… And yesterday—or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round
395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity
’Twas Crisis—All the length had p… That dull—benumbing time There is in Fever or Event— And now the Chance had come— The instant holding in its claw
430 It would never be Common — more —… Difference — had begun — Many a bitterness — had been — But that old sort — was done —
224 I've nothing else—to bring, You k… So I keep bringing These— Just as the Night keeps fetching… To our familiar eyes—
291 How the old Mountains drip with S… How the Hemlocks burn— How the Dun Brake is draped in C… By the Wizard Sun—
LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.
901 Sweet, to have had them lost For news that they be saved— The nearer they departed Us The nearer they, restored,
200 I stole them from a Bee— Because—Thee— Sweet plea— He pardoned me!
457 Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—House… Sealed so stately tight— Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble— Locking Bare feet out—
809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die
The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,— The sweeping up the heart,