#AmericanWriters
Said Death to Passion ‘Give of thine an Acre unto me.’ Said Passion, through contracting… ‘A Thousand Times Thee Nay.’ Bore Death from Passion
923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
175 I have never seen “Volcanoes”— But, when Travellers tell How those old—phlegmatic mountains Usually so still—
The Face we choose to miss - Be it but for a Day As absent as a Hundred Years, When it has rode away.
808 So set its Sun in Thee What Day be dark to me— What Distance—far— So I the Ships may see
648 Promise This—When You be Dying— Some shall summon Me— Mine belong Your latest Sighing— Mine—to Belt Your Eye—
Rearrange a 'Wife’s’ affection! When they dislocate my Brain! Amputate my freckled Bosom! Make me bearded like a man! Blush, my spirit, in thy Fastness…
Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair. Be its mattress straight,
863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—
Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…
208 The Rose did caper on her cheek— Her Bodice rose and fell— Her pretty speech—like drunken men… Did stagger pitiful—
386 Answer July— Where is the Bee— Where is the Blush— Where is the Hay?
Her final summer was it, And yet we guessed it not; If tenderer industriousness Pervaded her, we thought A further force of life
How Human Nature dotes On what it can’t detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct - Prospective is the friend