#AmericanWriters
1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm
Luck is not chance It’s Toil Fortune’s expensive smile Is earned The Father of the Mine
XL I NEVER lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod; Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
264 A Weight with Needles on the poun… To push, and pierce, besides— That if the Flesh resist the Heft… The puncture—coolly tries—
323 As if I asked a common Alms, And in my wondering hand A Stranger pressed a Kingdom, And I, bewildered, stand—
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
LVIII PORTRAITS are to daily faces As an evening west To a fine, pedantic sunshine In a satin vest.
To mend each tattered Faith There is a needle fair Though no appearance indicate ’Tis threaded in the Air And though it do not wear
498 I envy Seas, whereon He rides— I envy Spokes of Wheels Of Chariots, that Him convey— I envy Crooked Hills
“Unto Me?” I do not know you’— Where may be your House? “I am Jesus’—Late of Judea’— Now’—of Paradise"'— Wagons’—have you’—to convey me?
A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasur… To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore… A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take,
182 If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
799 Despair’s advantage is achieved By suffering—Despair— To be assisted of Reverse One must Reverse have bore—
242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—
993 We miss Her, not because We see— The Absence of an Eye— Except its Mind accompany Abridge Society