#AmericanWriters
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
527 To put this World down, like a Bu… And walk steady, away, Requires Energy—possibly Agony— ’Tis the Scarlet way
493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—
657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—
The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—
784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—
192 Poor little Heart! Did they forget thee? Then dinna care! Then dinna care! Proud little Heart!
547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seem… Then Cloudier become—
607 Of nearness to her sundered Thing… The Soul has special times— When Dimness—looks the Oddity— Distinctness—easy—se ems—
645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—
430 It would never be Common — more —… Difference — had begun — Many a bitterness — had been — But that old sort — was done —
LXIII Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair.
60 Like her the Saints retire, In their Chapeaux of fire, Martial as she! Like her the Evenings steal