#AmericanWriters
LXIII TALK with prudence to a beggar Of “Potosi” and the mines! Reverently to the hungry Of your viands and your wines!
392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—
Declaiming Waters none may dread… But Waters that are still Are so for that most fatal cause In Nature– they are full –
807 Expectation—is Contentment— Gain—Satiety— But Satiety—Conviction Of Necessity
782 There is an arid Pleasure— As different from Joy— As Frost is different from Dew— Like element—are they—
IX THE heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering;
XIII THE soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
Could Hope inspect her Basis Her Craft were done - Has a fictitious Charter Or it has none - Balked in the vastest instance
The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land,
197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!
All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -
717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—
502 At least—to pray—is left—is left— Oh Jesus—in the Air— I know not which thy chamber is— I’m knocking—everywhere—
523 Sweet — You forgot — but I rememb… Every time — for Two — So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You —