#AmericanWriters
311 It sifts from Leaden Sieves— It powders all the Wood. It fills with Alabaster Wool The Wrinkles of the Road—
882 A Shade upon the mind there passe… As when on Noon A Cloud the mighty Sun encloses Remembering
There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us—
930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed
His voice decrepit was with Joy - Her words did totter so How old the News of Love must be To make Lips elderly That purled a moment since with G…
163 Tho’ my destiny be Fustian— Hers be damask fine— Tho’ she wear a silver apron— I, a less divine—
420 You’ll know it—as you know ’tis N… By Glory— As you do the Sun— By Glory—
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
488 Myself was formed’—a Carpenter’— An unpretending time My Plane’—and I, together wrought Before a Builder came’—
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
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
107 ’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away!
568 We learned the Whole of Love— The Alphabet—the Words— A Chapter—then the mighty Book— Then—Revelation closed—
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—