#AmericanWriters
862 Light is sufficient to itself— If Others want to see It can be had on Window Panes Some Hours in the Day.
951 As Frost is best conceived By force of its Result— Affliction is inferred By subsequent effect—
“I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead— I could not deem it late—to hear
523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—
584 It ceased to hurt me, though so sl… I could not feel the Anguish go— But only knew by looking back— That something—had benumbed the T…
HE preached upon “breadth” till i… The broad are too broad to define: And of “truth” until it proclaimed… The truth never flaunted a sign. Simplicity fled from his counterfe…
315 He fumbles at your Soul As Players at the Keys Before they drop full Music on— He stuns you by degrees—
It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—
501 This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond— Invisible, as Music— But positive, as Sound—
Ended, ere it begun - The Title was scarcely told When the Preface perished from Co… The Story, unrevealed - Had it been mine, to print!
594 The Battle fought between the Sou… And No Man—is the One Of all the Battles prevalent— By far the Greater One—
159 A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa…